Love Through Lives
by Zouzou0517
Summary: Writing during the 100 Hiatus between s6 and s7 - The key is to keep writing and dreaming... **BELLARKE ENDGAME 2020**
1. The best medecine of all

The day Clarke first met Bellamy, he had a broken arm, an open eyebrow arch, scratches all over his face and a hint of head trauma.

It is not surprising when you climb halfway up a 150-year-old oak tree to take a crying little girl out of it, then to the top of that same tree to get the stuck kite from that same little girl. No matter how tall, athletic and reckless you may be, nothing can save you from falling when your foot slips on its grip and the branch you are catching up on cracks under your weight.

Remaining still during the exams, then quiet while waiting for the results, then resigned when Clarke says she wants to keep him under observation at night, seems to be a real hardship for Bellamy.

When neither his ravishing smile, nor his battered dog's look, nor his sharp humor manages to get him out of the situation, anger takes over.

And if in another life, Clarke could have been sensitive to that warm smile, that deep look, and that particular humor, the young woman is certainly not the type to be intimidated.

**"If you want to avoid hospital visits, you just need to be more careful."**

Bellamy apparently doesn't listen to her advice, since Clarke has the opportunity to see him for the second time a month later. A bullet scratch leads him straight back to the emergency room. It is on this occasion that the doctor discovers that not only is Bellamy Blake tall, athletic and reckless, and possesses (and knows how to use) a charming smile, a sure charisma and sharp intelligence, but he also happens to be a police officer.

And if Clarke can't help but notice how well his uniform suits him, it's simply because science has given her eyes. Might as well use them wisely.

**"I guess I'll see you soon enough, Princess."**

Clarke doesn't have time to think of anything smart to make him swallow his satisfied little smile and presumptuous nickname. Bellamy walks through the emergency room with his wounded arm in a sling (even if the young doctor guesses that the splint won't stay in place for long). She knows that he's unfortunately right and that she'll meet him again (too) soon enough.

And if she is surprised to feel more excitement than annoyance at this thought, she blames it on her thirty-six consecutive hours of shift and the lack of sleep that goes with it. It's not like she can control her emotions in this state.

The third time Clarke meets Bellamy, it's her turn to call him _(well, to call the police, not Bellamy himself, why would she have his number anyway?)._

That evening, no trace of the charming smile, the tender look, or the sharp humor... only a strong seriousness, a rigid posture and an unfailing calm to guide his sense of duty when he and Miller, his co-partner, come to take care of the very young Charlotte, victim of domestic violence and seriously injured.

Clarke leads them to her room while explaining the file and then watches with a suspicious eye as the officer questions the girl, ready to step in if she's feeling that Bellamy is pushing the fragile victim too far into her trenches. However, it quickly turns out that Clarke doesn't need to do anything. She can only look and notice (while refraining from admiring) the sweetness of Bellamy's words, a sweetness that she wouldn't have suspected, the way his voice, usually strong and deep, softens and quiets when he talks to Charlotte, and the unique way the emotion he holds (and which echoes perfectly the chaos Clarke herself feels) makes his brown eyes glow.

When Clarke gently closes the door of the bedroom to let Charlotte sleep, she's still shaken by the confessions she just heard. She can't imagine discovering yet another side of the policeman. But here it is, the young man's hand rests on her arm and the warmth he radiates, the comfort he offers her, surprises her so much that she no longer remembers the words he says to her at that moment.

And if Bellamy's kindness continues to haunt her and reassure her even long after she's gone home, that doesn't mean anything, does it?

Afterward, Clarke keeps on meeting Bellamy, even if it's only in light and discreet touches at first.

It's the smile she gives him from afar as she happens to run into him while patrolling the street.

It's the few words they exchange at the store where they both run their errands.

It's this walk finally shared along the seaside when Clarke's roommate's dog chooses to chase the first runner who comes along and who turns out to be the man who is haunting her thoughts without her being aware of it.

It's this latte offered in her favorite Coffee Shop when she recognizes him before her in the waiting line and he spills his entire order by turning around too quickly when she calls his name.

Eventually, Clarke stops tracking the number of times her path crosses with Bellamy's. If she had faith in a higher power, she could almost believe that fate was trying to bring them together. The moments get tangled and mixed up until finally, these two paths only draw one single road on which they are walking together, without knowing if their destination will be the same, without even asking themselves the question.

And if they are both hoping to keep doing the furthest distance side by side, what's the big deal about that?

But that's precisely what scares Clarke the most: what if one day, their paths don't intertwine anymore? What if, one day, she no longer meets him in the street, at the store, at the coffee shop or by the sea? What if one day she stops seeing that smile? If she no longer crosses those eyes, she no longer hears the laughter she is so proud to cause?

What if, one day, she loses him like she lost so many loved ones in the past?

And if the young man keeps on paying such regular visits to the ER, sometimes as a police officer, sometimes as an injured person himself, Clarke fears that this is exactly what will happen.

Each time Clarke wipes up the blood, straightens the bones, stitches the skin, it's like she's the wounded one. Seeing him so hurt and in so much suffering becomes harder and harder. Each new encounter, each new minute, each new moment spent with him where she allows their lives to merge more, clouds her judgment a little more, puts her feelings above her logic, what the heart shouts over what the head tells her to do.

So when one of her interns comes to get her one night and tells her that a patient is asking for her directly, Clarke knows exactly what to expect. This isn't the first time this is happening, and it won't be the last.

She doesn't take the time to calm the beating of her panicking heart nor the time to take a deep breath to stop shaking. She grabs her gown, puts it on as she runs down the stairs, and looks for him as soon as she's entering the large and immaculate room.

Clarke no longer counts the times she had to treat Bellamy anymore. Nine months have now passed since their first meeting, nine months during which they both got to know each other. Each took an important space in the other's life, one that seemed to be made for them alone.

However, as her bright eyes are finding Bellamy's crushed and bloody face, the doctor is sure of one thing: never before today has she seen the young man in worse shape than this.

He's not in uniform, which is confusing her, because it means he didn't get his injuries while on duty. Questions are spinning and turning in her mind, drowned by a concern that is overwhelming her with its intensity. And while an unprecedented tension grasps her, the same tension seems to immediately leave Bellamy, whose rigid stature and icy facade are suddenly crumbling in Clarke's closeness. His shoulders sink and exhaustion appears on his face and in his demeanor, so much that she thinks for a second that he's going to collapse here and now.

In an instinctive move, she grabs his hand, ignoring the burning that stings her, and leads him into a small room hidden from view. There, without saying a word, she stops herself from coming to wipe the tears that flow freely from the swollen and bluish eyelids of the young man, tracing in the still-wet blood strikes on his cheeks. No, Clarke doesn't say a word. She is just there, a reassuring presence at Bellamy's side.

Gently, she wipes the blood off his face, wondering if it's only his before remembering that the man in front of her, whom she now knows by heart, is unable to hurt anyone.

Tenderly, she disinfects the wounds, jolting when the tingling of the product makes him gasp with pain. _God, how she'd like to erase all the hurt displayed on his features._

Delicately, she stitches the skin where the hits opened the flesh. She brushes his cheekbone right under those brown eyes that usually know how to read her so well and are staring at her.  
She is so afraid to meet his gaze and thus reveal her thoughts too much. She runs her fingers through the dark curls that are falling on his forehead before taking care of the deep cut that is running across his eyebrow.

When he tries to take off his shirt at her request, but stops with his arms raised, paralyzed by pain, she grabs a scissor and frees him herself from his cloth prison.

The garment falls and reveals the bruises that color the skin here and there. No need to be a doctor to assume that the young man is suffering from the consequences of a particularly violent beat-up.

Lovingly, Clarke slips her fingers over the skin, grazes the marks and bruises, palpates and touches, looking for more extensive damage and finding it. She bites her lip to stop crying when she feels one, two, three cracked, maybe broken ribs. She orders a radio and lets Bellamy slip away to get it.

Only then, when she closes the door behind her and stands still and silent behind the glass that separates their two spaces, does she realize...

_She's in love with Bellamy._

The X-ray stops and draws her attention elsewhere. Fortunately, there is nothing serious to report and she quickly returns to the young man to inform him, then gives him one of the hospital's long-sleeved gowns so he can get dressed again, helping him even during the painful process. Clarke is good at ignoring the feelings that are scaring her.

Finally, when they are finished and he is standing there, right in front of her, wounded and broken, inside and out, she whispers:

**"You know I have to ask, Bellamy... What happened?"**

The distress and sadness that is shining in the young man's brown eyes at this very moment are breaking her already weakened heart.

**"Is it Dr. Griffin, or just Clarke who is asking?"** he then asks, his voice broken by emotion.

And if there's one question Clarke is powerless to answer at this very moment, in the light of her latest revelation, it's this one.

Her work has always represented her whole life, but when she looks into Bellamy's dark eyes, she's no longer sure that's all that matters anymore.

Facing her silence, both meaningful and full of unspoken words, Bellamy sighs and is about to leave the room when Clarke's shaky hand holds him back and pulls him against her. The young woman's arms tie around his neck as she becomes delicate and light against him, to avoid further harm, but safe and comforting, to express her presence and wrap him in her warmth.

Bellamy first stiffens, but only takes a few seconds to get out of his immobility, to relax, and finally to wrap his own hands around Clarke's waist. His nose comes tickling the hollow of her neck and she feels the tears of the young man starting to soak the collar of her blouse.

**"Clarke-"**

Her name is muffled by tears and cloth but filled with an overwhelming feeling, a deep and visceral need, which takes its roots in the heart of the soul. A need that Clarke is also feeling, without being able to explain it. So she's just holding him tighter.

**"You know you can talk to me about anything,"** she whispers in his chest. **"I'm here, Bellamy. I'm not going anywhere."**

It is only a few days later that Clarke learns more about Bellamy and his chaotic childhood. About the sister whom he had made the center of his world before it blew up in his face a few months earlier. About his passions and dreams. About his nightmares and regrets. In return, Clarke also confides, on this father who she misses every day and this absent mother, on the time that flies between her fingers and the friends that she lost.

And if her heart is beating faster every time the young man's hand touches hers, if her cheeks turn red when he lets a compliment slip, if she can't take her eyes off his perfect profile and the freckles that are scattered on his olive-skin when his attention is caught by their TV evenings, so be it, she only gets more and more talented at pretending nothing is affecting her.

However, if there is one aspect where Clarke cannot pretend, it's at work. A few weeks later, familiar voices resonate and make her look up from her files. Worry is already surrounding her heart with its cold, sharp claws when she recognizes Miller's voice, which seems annoyed, and lower, the one of his partner Officer Blake, whose words she can't discern. When the sight of blood flowing from Bellamy's arm to the fingertips of his right hand and soaking his shirt paralyzes her with fear, she knows what she has to do.

She immediately beeps her colleague and friend, Eric, and asks him to take charge of the young man. She remains by their side, however, throughout the fourteen very long stitches that the doctor makes on Bellamy's forearm. She tries to make conversation with a suddenly very distracted Miller and ignores with all the strength of her will the look of Bellamy on her. She knows what questions she will find in his dark eyes.

Miller and Jackson leave them in the small room pretending to have papers to fill out and Bellamy speaks out to break the heavy silence between the two of them.

**"Some paperwork to do, huh? Is that the new code for "_make heart eyes at each other and exchange phone numbers_"?"**

Clarke smiles, but her blue eyes are distant and shy. Cold. Bellamy suddenly shivers. A new panic hits him and he can't explain the reason for it. Even when he was running at full speed after the criminal in the city streets, even when he had to climb the unstable fence that had caused his cut, even when he had tackled the thief on the ground before handcuffing him, Bellamy had never felt any fear. Until he met Clarke's wavering gaze.

**"Clarke, it's nothing,"** he feels the necessity to say. **"Just a superficial cut. Nathan didn't even need to take me here-"**

**"Fourteen stitches, Bellamy. Fourteen,"** Clarke interrupts.

**" Well, I'm fine. Everything is fine."**

To which the young woman responds, relentless and resolute:

**"I don't want to be your doctor anymore, Bellamy. I'll warn the staff not to call me again when you come to our service. Dr. Jackson will take care of you from now on."**

Astonishment crosses the cop's face... along with what Clarke thinks is hurt, perhaps? She has no time to guess more than that, as Bellamy takes back control of his expressions and asks:

**"Did I do something wrong?"**

**"No-No, it's not that."**

**"Then- why?"**

Clarke is searching for her words, those that will save her from the truth and will not end up in a declaration like:

**"I can no longer be your doctor because every time I'm called in to be told that you're here, that you're hurt, I can't breathe, I can't think, let alone practice medicine. I can no longer be your doctor because I'm in love with you and these feelings are clouding my judgment."**

She's saving that kind of speech for later. One day, she'll tell him. One day, in a near future (she hopes), a future where he will no longer foolishly risk his life on every street corner, a future where she will also have faced the childhood fears that are trying to convince her that everyone she loves will eventually abandon her in some way or another. One day, soon.

But not now.

**"I can't- It just doesn't work anymore."**

Bellamy would have to settle for this half-truth until she was ready to reveal more.**  
**

And if in the days following this exchange, Bellamy is under the impression that something broke between them, or more precisely that an invisible and impenetrable wall was built between him and Clarke, perhaps he needs to ask himself what drives him to always try to break its foundations anyway. Perhaps he needs to ask himself what sustains his need to be close to her and what leaves his thirst for her unquenchable every time.

Between them, nothing changes, but everything is different as well. Every moment is more intense, more true, rawer. Each of Bellamy's smiles, his words, his laughter, fill Clarke with conflicting feelings. The happiness of being at his side, mixed with what she really feels for him and which overwhelms her with doubts. These new feelings seem to crystallize every minute, but at the same time paralyze it out of fear of losing him for good, in one way or another.

Unfortunately, it soon becomes very obvious to Bellamy that he can't settle for half-truths, and just because his predictable reaction doesn't surprise Clarke doesn't mean it doesn't annoy her.

As the days go by, he keeps nagging her, always asking her the same questions, the ones she can't answer, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and what would follow. As if he wanted to trigger her reactions while giving the impression of knowing exactly what to expect.

One evening, while they are meeting for one of their TV evenings, he crosses the line. Clarke can't even remember the exact words, all she remembers is the whirlwind of emotions that suddenly overwhelms her and the way she pushes Bellamy away wildly.

The ensuing argument seems to last for hours and hurts them both deeply, so much so that each decides not to give any more news to the other, nor to cross their path.

A ridiculous game of hide and seek begins. No more extended phone conversations, shared meal breaks or nights on the couch, long after Netflix figured out that no one was watching the television anymore.

Clarke avoids the supermarket. Bellamy stays away from the ER. Clarke walks her dog early in the morning. Bellamy runs late at night. Miller tries to find out what happened with Bellamy but collides with an unbreakable wall of coldness. Jackson no longer dares to tell Clarke when the police officers come through the emergency door since the young woman made it clear to him that it was no longer her concern.

A ridiculous game, for sure. Bellamy and Clarke are already both the losers. One is missing the other, but everyone is too proud and stubborn to take the step that will reconcile them.

A week goes by, then two, then three. Soon, a month has gone by and if the insults thrown at one's face have faded, the lack and emptiness left by the other have only intensified, until it becomes unbearable, until one day...

**"Sir... Atlas?"**

Clarke's voice stumbles on the unusual and yet so familiar name. She should have expected Bellamy to get up as soon as her eyes read the pseudonym on the sheet.

A memory resonates. A few weeks earlier, on the roof of his building, their two bodies wrapped in blankets to overcome the cold, the mythology enthusiast had told her the famous myth. Clarke had allowed herself to be lulled by Bellamy's deep voice, her eyes fixed on the celestial sky above them. She couldn't have helped but found, in Atlas' story, a little (too) about Bellamy.

**"You don't have to carry all the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore, you know?"** she whispered to him.** "I already told you, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."**

The noise of the young man's chair scraping on the floor of the waiting room brings her back to the present. When Bellamy's low-pitched tone answers "Yes" and he stands up to follow her inside her practice, she is flooded with surprise. She briefly examines his face and surprise turns into relief, then quickly into worry when she notices the dark circles under his weary brown eyes, and the almost defensive and wounded way in which he is holding himself.

Once the door of her office is closed behind them, she crosses her arms, to better protect herself or to prevent herself from showing too much, she doesn't even know and asks:

**"What are you doing here, Bellamy?"**

**"I need a consultation."**

She takes a few seconds to really look at him. He doesn't just look tired, but exhausted. Closer up, she can better see his eyes reddened by a clear lack of sleep. The skin of his cheeks is almost hidden by a beard of a few days and his already untamable dark curls now point in all directions, as a result of the too many times his trembling fingers wiggle through his hair.

What's the point of denying now how much she missed the young man? Suddenly, the arguments and reasons for their fight to lose their relevance, and part of Clarke would like this story to be in the past. However, it's the stubborn and resentful part of her that wins and here she says:

**"I already told you, I can no longer be your doctor."**

**"You said you didn't want to be my doctor anymore."**

**"It doesn't change anything. If you need to see a professional, I can call Dr..."**

**"Clarke, _please_..."**

His voice breaks on the last word. The young woman takes a few seconds to consider before agreeing, while nevertheless warning him:

**"This is the last time, Bellamy."**

He nods and follows her to the examination table where he sits.

**"So, what brings you here?"**

He clears his throat and explains:

**"Lately, I haven't felt like myself."**

She raises an eyebrow.

**"What do you mean?"**

**"I have trouble getting out of bed, trouble getting to work, I'm exhausted all the time..."**

No way Clarke couldn't _not_ worry while listening to these words. It's impossible not to think that if she had been in his life for the past few days as she was the weeks before, she could have been there for him sooner, she could have helped him, she could have made a difference. She bites her lower lip and turns to grab the blood pressure device behind her. She asks him to lift the sleeve of his shirt and fixes the strap around his arm.

**"Your blood pressure is correct. Are you getting enough sleep?"**

This time, he's wincing as he answers:

**"Not exactly. I have trouble sleeping, and when I finally fall asleep, I often wake up with a start and... I-I have nightmares too..."**

Clarke's heart is tightening in her chest. She feels the piercing look of the young man on her face but doesn't feel able to meet his brown eyes, tries to avoid his gaze by asking a new question:

**"Bellamy... For how long has it been going on?"**

**"I don't want you to worry about me, Clarke."**

Anger overwhelms her with that last sentence and she can't hold back her next words.

**"If you didn't want me to worry about you, you shouldn't..."**

She doesn't end her phrase. Not because she is lacking something to say, but because too many unspoken things are jostling in her mind at this very moment.

But like the last time they were in this hospital together and Clarke had told him that she no longer wanted to be his doctor, the young man was not satisfied with that. A half-truth was not enough for him then, a half-finished sentence is not enough for him now either, and Clarke curses his perseverance and the stubborn way he's always chasing the truth.

**"I shouldn't have done what, Clarke?"** he replies then, waiting for the next step.

_You shouldn't have come here._

_You shouldn't have made me care about you._

_You shouldn't have let me love you._

She turns her head, sighs, weary and suddenly tired, too. Tired of fighting herself by fighting him, tired of her restless nights, tired of the thoughts that keep her awake. She is about to turn around to go behind his desk when he grabs her wrist and whispers as he pulls her back close to him:

**"Please, Clarke."**

He looks into her blue eyes and seems to find the courage he was lacking before admitting:

**"I miss you."**

How can a heart break and at the same time start pounding? Clarke is a doctor, she should know the answer to that question. She should have better control over the signals her brain is sending to her body. But here she is, her eyes burning with tears barely held back by this truth that the young man speaks so easily that she is almost jealous; this truth that she also feels so strongly without yet fully understanding it.

How could she have let Bellamy enter her life so easily?

How could she have let him take such an important part in it?

How did he succeed in breaking down her fences without her realizing it?

How did he manage to sneak into her routine as if he had always been there?

And in her heart as if he had always existed in it?

**"Bellamy..."**

She stops. She knows how to sense a danger when she is close to it. What she wishes to say is too risky. Not after her father. Not after Wells. Finn. Lexa. Not after all those she lost and all the others who had drifted away from her when grief and suffering had made her unrecognizable. Her heart can't resist another crack. A new shard and it would break forever. Clarke wouldn't survive it.

**"I can't-"**

She slips her wrist out of his grip, but Bellamy keeps her gaze trapped in his own when he adds, with a low, shaky, hesitant voice:

**"Clarke, I need you."**

The young woman opens her mouth to protest. She doesn't like the idea of him being dependent on her as much as she knows she is, doesn't like the idea that he thinks she's necessary just like she knows he's essential to her existence, but he doesn't give her time to add anything else.

**"It's true, Clarke. I came to see you today because... I can't stand this distance, and this silence anymore. I feel miserable without you in my life. All my landmarks have faded and... I-I don't know how you did it, Clarke, but I don't know how I spent my days before you came into my life and turned everything upside down."**

Bellamy speaks quickly, his words are confused, but the message is delivered, loud and clear. So much so that Clarke remains silent, unable to find the right words, torn between the desire to curl up in the embrace of his arms, and the need to flee as far as possible.

Softly, he brushes her fingers with his own and looks in the sapphire of her gaze to find the permission to touch her again. When she doesn't back away from him, he ties the fingers of her left hand to his own and pulls her closer to him.

**"Say something, Clarke, please."**

The young woman clears her throat before answering the first thing that comes to her mind, her professional and down-to-earth side is taking over to protect her from the emotions that are threatening to swallow her up.

**"If you're not really sick, I can't-"**

Bellamy sighs, exasperated, and interrupts her right away.

**"But I'm sick, Clarke. If not, explain to me why my heart beats so fast when I'm close to you. Why my breath sometimes stops when I'm looking at you. Why I'm getting so clumsy around you. Why I'm losing my words and becoming completely silly and incoherent. Why I smile foolishly all by myself when l think about us or when I see your name on the screen of my phone. Tell me, Clarke. You're the doctor, so what's happening to me?"**

And suddenly, it's Clarke's heart that is speeding up, her own breathing that is becoming difficult, her words that are slipping away with all the answers she could give.

**"I'll tell you what's happening to me,"** Bellamy continues. **"I think I fell for you, Clarke. I got you under my skin. I'm in love with you."**

That's it, today is the day Clarke finally succumbs to a heart attack. Only Bellamy's burning eyes in her own are keeping her afloat now. Thousands of thoughts are bursting into her mind at this moment. Some are shouting at her to keep her distance, others are whispering that she needs to get closer and closer and let Bellamy consume her entirely.

When she finds her voice again, she can only say one thing. A truth that terrifies her.

**"You're too reckless. One day, you'll get yourself killed and I won't survive it."**

The young man swallows as he registers Clarke's words. It's not a "no", it's not a "never", it's not an "I never want to see you again", it's a "maybe", a "why not", a "convince me" and Bellamy jumps at the opportunity.

His fingers bind more to Clarke's palm as he brings the young woman's fresh hand to his cheek. When she feels Bellamy's skin under her fingers, she finally seems to come back to reality. Her blue eyes are shining, no longer from the fears she doesn't dare to face, but from the hopes that she holds for the future.

**"Maybe you're right, Clarke. In any case, I'm not going to jinx us by saying that you're wrong and that nothing will ever happen to me. You know as well as I do that an accident can happen at any second. We see them every day, you and I. But they may also not happen at all."**

**"You don't know that-"**

**"Neither do you. We have two choices, Clarke. Either we decide to live in fear. Either we choose to be happy now. I know what choice I want to make..."**

Bellamy is looking at her and suddenly she can no longer take her eyes off the young man's ones. His dark gaze cuts through her and exalts her, and so she knows. She knows she can't go back.

Her voice is tentative and is shaking with emotions when she answers, but her tone is light as she tries to ease the tension with her clumsy humor.

**"It's not really a choice if there's only one, Bellamy."**

Then the young man smiles and answers:

**"Only choice is an oxymo-"**

Clarke suddenly stops him by pressing her lips on his, and Bellamy takes only one second to react, to tie his arms around her waist and hold her more tightly against him, to melt into a long-awaited embrace, to deepen their kiss and so to taste the sweetness of her mouth and the soft velvet of her tongue.

When, after several minutes, they pause, none of them moves away. Their shattered breaths intermingle and Bellamy keeps his forehead against hers until their hearts calm down.

Finally, as they finally open their eyes, the joy and relief of one are reflected in the features of the other. So Clarke wraps her arms around his neck and puts her head on his shoulder while he dips his own in the hollow of her neck. Silent and still, they enjoy for a few moments the moment until:

**"I love you too,"** the young woman whispers.

Bellamy's smile stretches and she senses it on her skin, which is shivering under the effect of his delightful sigh.

**"I won't change my mind, you know,"** she adds. **"I still can't be your doctor..."**

**"Yes, I know. I understand now."**

**"Good."**

**"It's really a shame, though,"** he adds with a smile in his voice. **"You're a damn good doctor, I'm already feeling much better."**

Bellamy jumps and laughs when she digs her fingers between his ribs in retaliation.

**"Ouch..."** he then complains.

Clarke responds with a new kiss since this is apparently the best medicine of all.

**The End **


	2. Heartlines

Based on an idea of griffintaste (on twitter), a little ball of energy and light, always super nice and optimistic, who asked for an OS where Clarke and Bellamy kiss non-stop. I don't know if that's what you had in mind, but here's what came out of it. I hope you'll like it!

Also, the chapter title comes from one of my favorite songs from Florence+the Machine

* * *

Clarke loves everything about Bellamy. Her favorite? Kissing him.

* * *

If Clarke was asked what she likes best about dating Bellamy, she knows exactly what she would say.

Okay, she loves his reassuring presence, the constant comfort he brings her, she usually so stressed and anxious. There is only by his side that she knows how to release the tension that keeps her on edge, that she slowly learns to let things go out of her control.

Yes, she likes the fact that he supports her no matter what and in every choice she makes, as long as it doesn't endanger her health. Like the time she stayed awake for 24 hours in a row to finish the series of paintings requested for her first public exhibition. He didn't need to say anything, but Clarke clearly understood his disapproval and concern when she came out of her little studio on shaky legs and he had to carry her to bed because she was so tired.

She could also point out that with him, she never gets bored. The young man is excited and curious about everything around him. Like the child who never tires of discovering new things, Bellamy knows how to marvel at everything and anything and always wants to discover what he doesn't have the chance to know yet. He's a well of knowledge, without limits or boundaries and Clarke thinks she'll never get tired of talking to him even when they can't agree on a particular topic (which is still happening on a regular).

Without a doubt, he is also the person who undoubtedly cares most about the people around him. His family isn't just related by blood, far from it. His sister is an essential part of his- of their lives, but that's not all. His family is also those he trusted, whom he gave his friendship to, those he let into his heart. And what a heart he has! A big kind heart. He inspires people, they follow him and listen to him because of it. A heart that spreads again and again and only increases the love it contains so that each person under his wings feels appreciated for their true worth. And Clarke is so happy to have a special place there.

She might add that Bellamy, on top of being her boyfriend, is also her best friend. The two young people shared everything, the ups and downs, the loves and heartbreaks, the doubts and sorrows, the simple pleasures and the great joys. She couldn't say what they didn't experience side by side. Even before they fell in love with each other, they already loved each other deeply and Clarke knows that this is the foundation of their relationship. Chemistry, affinity, and unity have always shaped their relationship. She knows what's in his head even though he hasn't shared his thoughts yet. He knows what she wants to say even though she hasn't opened her mouth yet. This reality still stands today.

Also, she can't talk about Bellamy without describing how gorgeous he is. Even if she's not the type to give too much importance to this kind of stuff, she knows she won the lottery with him. When they started dating ten years earlier, and they were only two students, he was all muscle, long and carved in stone. Abdominal muscles so defined and arms so muscular that revealing them was almost sinful. And if he kept his distinctive brown curls (although they are now peppered with light grey hair), a beard now covers his previously shaven cheeks, his square jaw and the cute dimple on his chin.

The years have softened him, both in terms of his often explosive temperament and his body shape. Over, the long hours at the gym and the hellish sports schedule. Although Clarke and Bellamy still go for long hours of hiking in the woods, Bellamy now prefers hot mornings to languish under the duvet rather than footings under the morning breeze, and is now far too busy with his job as a University Teacher, the book club he runs every Thursday night, and the help he gives Clarke in her charity projects, to care that his old six-pack has now faded and that his shoulders are not so defined.

Clarke doesn't care that he's no longer the athlete of his youth, she's no longer the same either. What matters to her is that she still feels as good in his arms, that his embrace still brings her that indelible sense of safety that she has always felt around him, that she continues to admire his profile and how his eyes are shining with excitation or emotion. He is and always will be the most handsome man she laid her eyes on.

The sex is incredible, and it would have been hypocritical not to mention it. If their first times had been filled with a devouring passion that often left them breathless, the enthusiasm of their beginnings had eventually faded over the years for the best. Today, each contact of Bellamy still ignites Clarke's skin, just as each caress of the young woman always sets her companion on fire. They both know each other's bodies almost as well as their own, which only makes their relationship more intimate and captivating.

Not to mention the fact that Bellamy is amazingly gifted with his hands. And Clarke doesn't mean that he's good at DIY (although he is, like that time when he built her little workroom in the back of their garden with his bare hands so she can work on her illustrations with complete peace of mind), but simply that he's freaking GOOD. WITH. HIS. HANDS. And with his fingers. She doesn't want to brag, but he knows how to get her off in a matter of minutes, just as he also knows how to make the pleasure last over and over again, until Clarke is nothing more than a wreck in his expert hands, until she forgets her name, until she can only do one thing: screaming his name to beg him to finally end his delicious torture and let her surrender to the orgasm that he is so good at making last.

And if Clarke doesn't talk about his tongue when she explains how good Bellamy is in bed, it's not because he doesn't know how to use it. If he's that talented with his fingers, then imagine what he can do with his tongue. No, it's because what Clarke likes best about dating Bellamy is kissing him. And that's exactly what they're doing right now.

If she could, Clarke would spend hours kissing Bellamy. From the very beginning of their relationship, from the very first and hesitant kiss, she fell in love with the contact of his lips, with their soft and warm texture, with the way they dance in unison with hers. With each new kiss, she tries to capture and engrave the sensations it gives her. The heat that gently invades her body, the butterflies that flutter in her stomach, her heart rate that quickens and this unique and unbelievable feeling of being suddenly whole, as if he made her complete, accomplished her.

Bellamy's lips are firm but silky as they softly explore hers. His breath is burning on her skin. His woody scent is all around her and all Clarke can think about from the moment he leaned over her and she closed her eyes, is that she wants more.

As always, her boyfriend seems to be reading her thoughts and Bellamy's hands, first gently placed on her hips, rise again and again, along her sides, between her shoulder blades, and then in her hair. When Bellamy meets the elastic band that ties it in a ponytail, he growls and pulls on the fabric to release her long blond curls, then runs his hands through her golden hair. When his fingers reach and start scratching her scalp, Clarke moans and burns like a fire.

Without moving from the sofa on which they were sitting, she moves her thighs on either side of Bellamy's legs to straddle him and puts her own hands in the brown and messy curls she loves so much, tears him a sigh by pulling on them slightly. He gets revenge by biting her lower lip and the sensation of his tongue on the burn left by his tooth makes her forget everything.

Clarke opens up and Bellamy deepens their kiss with another groan. The sound vibrates within her and a shudder envelops her as Bellamy's tongue mixes with hers. A burning passion is ravaging her and all she can think about is removing the layers of clothing that separate his skin from hers. In tune with her desire, Bellamy's hands slide from her neck to her chest. A pressure of his hands on her breasts makes her hold her breath for a second and breaks the kiss as Bellamy's fingers begin to unbutton her shirt at an incredible speed. He's already on the third button when she stops him by putting her hand on his.

**"Wait. Is that a yes?" ** she wonders, out of breath.

She doesn't know if the red of her cheeks comes from their kiss and the promise of what's to come or simply from the question she asked. When Bellamy's brown eyes get lost in the blue of her own, emotion suddenly engulfs her.

**"Clarke-"**

He is also breathless and if the young woman looks closer, she can see that, beyond the constellation of freckles and under the beard that covers his skin, his cheeks are colored with the same shade as her own.

**"Of course it's a yes! I've been asking you to marry me for years, how could I even think to say no?"**

**"Well, I told you no several times myself, so-"**

**"It was never a real no."**

When he sees the look on his girlfriend's face, he corrects himself and admits:

**"Okay, maybe once or twice, but Clarke, you're the love of my life and I know I'm yours, with or without marriage." **

An immense relief fills her with his words. A deep joy takes root in the very center of her heart and spreads gently through her veins and her body. However, she cannot help but feel a little guilty at the idea of having almost "stolen" the proposal he has already made on various occasions.

**"I'm sorry, Bellamy. I know it's not what you had in mind, but- I'm ready now. I don't want to wait anymore."**

His arm wraps around her waist to hold her against him, while his hand pushes back a strand of blond hair that has been lost in front of her light eyes before resting tenderly on her cheek.

**"You have nothing to apologize for, Clarke, I'm serious. It's the 21st century. If a woman doesn't have the right to propose her boyfriend, then where the world is going?"**

The young woman laughs and her smile is immediately refracted on Bellamy's face, which is illuminated by happiness that could be considered unprecedented. The glow in his eyes is filled with love and hope for the future- _ their _ future, when he adds:

**"That's why I chose you, Clarke. That's why I love you. That's why I'm the happiest man on Earth- no, in the whole universe."**

**"Are you repeating your vows already?" ** she teases gently.

**"Oh, you can laugh, but my vows will blow everything up. Bring the waterproof mascara, baby, I can't promise you won't need it."**

A silence, then:

**"We are getting married," ** he whispers, looking like he doesn't believe it yet.

**"Yes."**

**"You just proposed," ** Bellamy adds, moved and proud.

**"I did."**

**"You are my fiancée. We're engaged," ** he states, with a big smile on his face.

**"I am. We are."**

**"I love you."**

Clarke doesn't answer and simply lays her lips on his in a much more tender and chaste kiss than before. A kiss quickly made impossible by Bellamy's huge, blissful smile.

**"We have so much to organize, Clarke," ** he says suddenly overexcited. **"I have to call Octavia and-"**

**"Bellamy," ** Clarke stops him. **"I will be your wife and you will be my husband... Now, can we move on to the ****_"he-said-yes-sex" _****, please?"**

Bellamy's smile doesn't fade, but Clarke now recognizes in it the cockiness that characterizes it. The sparkling desire that sets his eyes on fire elicits strange things inside her own body.

**"Your wish is my command, future wife."**

Finally, their mouths meet again, their hands find their way back to their rightful spots among the curls and on half-open shirts. Their tongues intertwine again and Bellamy and Clarke pick up where they left off.

Kissing Bellamy is definitely Clarke's favorite pastime and yes, she can easily imagine doing it for the rest of their lives.


	3. The Crowd (1)

_"Quand soudain, je me retourne, il se recule  
Et la foule vient me jeter entre ses bras" _

* * *

December 31, 2020 

Clarke had zero intention of coming to this party.

To say that her December 31, 2020 program had been set many weeks ago would be an understatement. No, the schedule for December 31, 2020, has been decided for several years now, since it has been the same for more than a decade. Because it's well known, and everyone close to her knows this, Clarke spends every New Year's Eve in the same way.

First of all, she works like a maniac, putting in the hours at the hospital to be as exhausted as possible, agreeing to all the extra hours, all the possible replacements, and burying herself in the highest and most imposing mass of work. Why is that? Because it gives her the perfect excuse to dodge invitations from all her colleagues, relatives and friends. Seeing her and her hectic schedule, they can't help but see the evidence: Clarke is far too tired to go out and party all night long.

Then she makes sure to end her last shift as late as possible. The ideal time, 10 pm. Believe her experience, 9 pm is too early, most parties are far from having even begun. And 11 pm is too late, Clarke doesn't hate the New Year so much that she just wants to go home, crash into bed and sleep until January 1st. 10 pm, and that way she's almost sure not to run into anyone in the hallways and avoid the last unexpected invitation.

Finally, she goes home (to her apartment where she finally lives alone and without a roommate since she moved in at the beginning of last year) puts on her softest pajamas (the one with the black and white zipped jacket and whose cat ears adorn the hood), pulls her favorite pizza out of the freezer (a three-cheese, of course) and devours it on her couch once it's quickly cooked in the microwave, wrapped in her warmest plaid (a patchwork of all of her father's favorite T-shirts) and in front of her favorite comedy show (Brooklyn 99, what else).

However, this is her first December 31st in Arkadia and if there is one thing Clarke has forgotten to consider in the equation, it's the friends she's made over the last ten months. Friends who, as she would discover to her dismay tonight, were far more resilient, stubborn and smart than all the people she had ever met put together.

Their plan has been in motion for a long time, and by the time she realizes it, it's far too late to stop it.

Because it's Wells himself, the ever-busy, never there, always on a mission around the world ...Wells, her best friend, her almost brother, her favorite person in the whole universe, who is the number one step in this diabolical plan.

The young man rings her doorbell at 7 pm sharp, just as Clarke has returned earlier (and reluctantly) from her shift due to some computer bug.

Then, Clarke understands immediately who is the mastermind behind all this.

**"No, she doesn't look upset, Raven,"** Wells explains on the phone, which he holds firmly between his shoulder and his cheek as he strides into her apartment.

He puts the two large travel bags in his hands in the doorway and finally looks up at her before giving her the most beautiful smile. A smile that warms Clarke from the inside, a smile that reminds her of all the precious childhood memories they shared, a smile that makes her feel like she's finally home, which is ridiculous because between her and him, she's already home and he's the one who's finally back.

**"I think we broke her, Raven,"** he laughs as she simply returns his blissful smile without saying anything as if she were experiencing a dream that she would soon wake up from. **"She doesn't move, she looks at me as if she's seen a ghost, I'm going to hang up now. See you later."**

_Raven_... Raven, the misunderstood genius who plays her tricks from the shadows, smarter than all the brains Clarke had the opportunity to operate on, but still unable to face the feelings she formed towards Wells in just two meetings. Feelings shared in secret, and which led to the two of them swapping numbers to set up this ambush, Clarke would learn later that night.

Wells has barely enough time to put his phone down on the kitchen sketch-covered island when a whirlwind crashes into him when Clarke finally wakes up from her trance, a veritable storm of blond hair and cries of joy. He catches her in mid-air, of course, as always, when she jumps at his neck and comes to wrap her arms around his neck in a familiar and oh-so-soothing embrace.

When he puts her down on the ground, their expressions are the same, their eyes damp and their smiles wide open.

**"Ouch!"** shouts Wells while rubbing his arm when she hits him with her fist, exclaiming:

**"Wells Jaha! You didn't tell me you were coming home for the holidays!" **

If Clarke ever needed another reason to not celebrate New Year's Eve, she'd surely add to the list the fact that Wells could rarely be there to celebrate it with her.

Her best friend laughs out loud and embarrassedly explains himself by rubbing his neck:

**"Raven thought this would be a nice surprise for you... She told me it's not easy for you right now..." **

**"Raven, huh?" **

Clarke can't help it. She raises her eyebrows in a knowing look.

**" Shut up, please,"** he says, and the woman could almost swear he's blushing. **"And I'm not just back for the holidays, not really."**

Clarke's heart misses a beat at these words. Images are springing up in her head that she can't stop. Hopeful images of a life that Wells would truly be a part of. Her blue eyes fill with tears, and she barely dares to open her mouth to ask if what she believes is true. Always aware of her thoughts, he goes on and says:

**"I'm here for good, Clarke. I'm done with overseas missions. I'm staying." **

Then all she can do is rush into his arms again. Tears run freely down her cheeks now, and she doesn't care. Because, indeed, things haven't been easy lately.

This job that she loved so much and studied so hard for is becoming overwhelming and she's questioning her career choices. Clarke no longer thrives in what she does daily. She now feels more pain and guilt about not being able to save the people she's trying to help than she holds happiness about having helped those she could save.

Two of her friends have just gotten married and are expecting a baby and of course, she's happy for Harper and Monty, but she can't help but compare her own love life to their sweet, simple and beautiful one is waiting for her when she gets home and she broke up with Cillian herself only a few weeks ago, after finally realizing that the ambitious doctor was only using her to promote himself at the famous Abigail Griffin Hospital.

Abby, a mother Clarke barely talks to, except for work, by the way.

The fact that the days were getting closer and closer to the anniversary of her father's death twelve years earlier didn't help either.

But then, at this very moment, as Wells announces with a big smile that he has returned to stay and hugs her, she feels stronger. She knows that with him by her side, she can face anything.

**"I'm so glad you're here,"** she whispers, her throat tightening.

**"Me too,"** Wells replies, freeing himself from her embrace.

Then he looks at her pajamas with a scowling frown and Clarke sees the next line coming from miles away. However, she can't do anything to stop it, doesn't even know if she wants to anymore.

**"Strange outfit for the 31st of December... What exactly were you planning to do with your evening?" **

She doesn't answer, the PJs, the freshly baked pizza and the paused TV on the Brooklyn 99 opening speak for themselves.

**"Okay, I see,"** he laughs. **"But I'm here now."**

His smile is so genuine. It lights up his face and Clarke can't help but return it.

**"Come on, Clarke, I'm not spending my first night back, on December 31st, locked in an apartment watching TV and eating frozen pizza!" **

**"Hey! You love frozen pizza, okay?"** she weakly argues.

**"I can't wait to see everyone, and Raven's waiting for us at Jasper's at nine." **

**"Raven, huh?"** she nags him again.

He sighs but she can see him trying to hide his smile.

**"You really need to stop this, right now. Please, Clarke. Let's go out. Please do this for me." **

Of course, Clarke can't find anything to respond to that. Honestly, she was already convinced by the time he even closed the door to the apartment behind him. However, now that she's come to her senses, there's a question she's quick to ask.

**"And how did Raven knew I was finishing at six tonight?" **

Her best friend's baffled look gives her the answer.

**"A computer bug, my ass!"** she exclaims as she realizes the trap that has been set for her. **"I guess Harper's in it too, then?"**

Because how could Harper have been wrong about the hospital's computer scheduling program? Harper, who still manages the agendas of all the surgeons at Arkadia Memorial with an iron fist and always knows everything. Harper, who never hesitates to meddle in other people's business, always for their own good, of course. Harper, who didn't hesitate to change Clarke's schedule without telling her so that she could finish her day early enough to come to the party organized by Jasper and Monty.

**"Jasper and Monty too?" **

Jasper and Monty, the hell duo and also the male nurse and lab tech that Clarke loves to work with the most. The first to warm up to the cold blonde whose famous last name didn't encourage anyone to get close. Those who introduced her to all the nice people in the hospital, those who gave her the best spots in this unknown city.

Wells' expression tells her everything she needs to know.

**"Come on, Clarke, you can't blame us for wanting to spend some time with you and try to cheer you up." **

But Clarke's far from angry with them, she's more impressed than mad, more moved than upset. Besides, she never should have underestimated them in the first place.

**"You're good, I gotta admit." **

At this, her friend smiles, victorious.

**"Come on, go take a shower and change while I move into your guest room. We're expected by nine." **

Two hours later, as Clarke toasts with her friends to the success of their diabolical plan, Clarke only misses the cozy pajamas, the warm plaid, the usual pizza, and her favorite TV show a little bit. There she is, surrounded by the kindest, most adorable people in the entire universe, a glass of unknown liquor in her hand, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of the thirty other people that Monty and Jasper invited into the tiny apartment they shared before the Greens decided to move in together, and she feels more at home than ever.

Even more at home for sure than that time when her father never came home on time to celebrate the New Year, when her father never came home at all.

More at home for sure than the time she and Lexa had broken up by mutual agreement over the phone instead of wishing each other a Happy New Year, shattered by the long distance of their studies and the gap between their lives.

Definitely more at home than at the last gala where her mother had dragged her to make an appearance and where they had argued so badly that they were still trying to strengthen their mother-daughter relationship today.

The party is in full swing. On the kitchen table, Monty and Jasper have started a fierce beer-pong contest against their two girlfriends, Harper and Maya. Sitting comfortably on the sofa, Raven and Wells are making heart eyes at each other while discussing things that Clarke has given up understanding. Cillian tried to ask her to dance and didn't seem offended when she said no. Josephine, her best enemy, seems far too busy kissing Gabriel to taunt her the way she always does in the hospital where they both work, and even when Finn waved at her, Clarke felt no bitterness or sadness towards the man who broke both her and Raven's heart before Clarke had even celebrated her first month in town.

For once in more than a decade, Clarke is happy on a December 31st. Happy and a little tipsy, she must admit. This is no doubt why she answers an enthusiastic "yes" when her small group of friends suggests going to the countdown and the famous Arkadia New Year's fireworks display in the town's main square.

If someone had told her on this same day at this time last year (it's 11:27 p.m. on the watch she wears on her wrist that used to belong to her father) that she would be crammed into a small car heading to the heart of a new city to attend the New Year celebration, Clarke would never have believed it. Yet Monty is behind the wheel, Harper beside him, one hand on her husband's hand, the other caressing her newly rounded belly, and there's Clarke stuck between Wells and Jasper, carrying respectively Raven and Maya on their laps.

The music plays loud but not louder than her friends' voices, and she lets herself be drawn by the rhythm and the words, by their laughter and their dancing, until finally, she finds herself in the middle of the crowd, her eyes fixed on the countdown of the town square.

10\. Multicolored lights are brightening up the surroundings with a fairy-tale glow. Everywhere, big speakers are playing festive music and the snow is falling softly over their heads.

9\. Clarke shivers and further tucks herself into her long beige coat, putting her matching hat a little more over her ears, then exhaling into the hollow of the red scarf she borrowed from Raven to warm up a bit.

8\. The crowd becomes restless and Clarke watches as the couples around her get closer and snuggle.

7\. Monty tenderly pulls a blonde lock of hair from Harper's face with a smile on his face.

6\. Maya wraps her arms around Jasper's neck, her sparkling black eyes lovingly gazing into her boyfriend's eyes.

5\. Even Wells and Raven orbit around each other, shy, but determined to be the one the other would kiss in the great leap of this New Year's passage.

4\. Clarke finally realizes that in this big crowd of strangers, she has no one to kiss when midnight will chime.

3\. She turns and spins around, lost and slightly disoriented. Her back hits something - no, someone - strong and warm.

2\. She turns to face the young man standing in front of her. His voice is low and deep as he apologizes for bumping into her when it was she who wasn't looking where she was going.

1\. From him, she can only distinguish a few details. A shy but charmingly cute smile. A few scattered freckles. Brown curls sprinkled with snow. Two dark eyes that pierce through her and make her suddenly feel needy, burning with a consuming heat.

The collective "Happy New Year" roars loudly in the square, but sounds as if it were muffled in the bubble that is forming around them the moment their eyes meet. The question is as obvious in the brown of his eyes as the answer is in the azure of hers.

Clarke steps forward as he leans in, putting his lips on her own. They're warm and soft. Their touch electrifies the young woman with a pulsating and burning current from the very first second, inviting her to relish this unexpected thrill. She lets her barriers crumble, her shell fades, her protections disappear and surrenders to the bewitching scent of her stranger for the few moments that would have made their kiss a chaste one. It's only once this moment has passed, when they both start to withdraw, that she realizes that she has no desire to step away.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to break off their kiss either, if the respectful but possessive way in which he puts his hand on the small of her back means anything. A shiver runs through her at this reassuring touch. From hesitant and innocent, their kiss becomes daring. Clarke melts into his arms, and their bodies press even more closely together, nested like two pieces of a puzzle that have been lost for too long, while their lips are dancing with each other. When Clarke wraps his arms around her neck and touches his soft curls with her fingers, he sighs and deepens their kiss, flicking his tongue against hers, holding her tighter against him. One of his gloved hands comes to rest on her cheek in a gesture so natural that it's devastating. She would like to feel the raw touch of his fingers on her skin so much.

Somewhere in the edges of their impenetrable bubble, a crack is appearing and the sound of the crowd around them seeps into their space. All around them, people are shouting, singing and whistling their happiness to leave 2020 behind and the magic suddenly fades away.

Too abruptly, the young man's lips are torn from hers and the warmth of their embrace is dampened as several people are forcing their way between their two bodies without paying attention to them, dragging them away from each other.

For a brief moment, the tips of their fingers hold on, but the crowd comes and goes, unstoppable wave, and ultimately carries her stranger away. Soon, the black curls, the shy but sincere smile, the brown sloes, everything fades away. As though Clarke was just dreaming.

Yet she holds a hand to her warm, sore lips and there it is, the burning memory of their kiss.

Around her, her friends are laughing, shouting, singing and dancing together. If one of them has noticed the passionate and surreal embrace she has just shared with this perfect stranger, no one says anything about it. Wells and Raven come to hug her to wish her a Happy New Year, then it's Monty and Harper's turn, and finally Jasper and Maya's.

Clarke smiles but feels her lips get stiff, her heart icy, and suddenly, among her dearest friends, Clarke feels more alone than she ever was.

* * *

_"Et traînée par la foule qui s'élance et qui danse _  
_Une folle farandole, je suis emportée au loin_  
_Et je crispe mes poings, maudissant la foule qui me vole_  
_L'homme qu'elle m'avait donné que je n'ai jamais retrouvé"_


	4. Find Me (the crowd 2)

_"To be clear_  
_I've seen a million faces_  
_I've seen a million different faces_  
_Each one mirroring that of your own_  
_And still, none of them felt like home to me_  
_None of them have felt like you"_

* * *

February 12, 2021

The door to his apartment opens and Bellamy doesn't have to turn his head to know that Octavia has just entered. After all, only she has a spare key to his place. He hears as she takes a resolute pace towards the couch where he's sitting comfortably, engrossed in his reading, then huffs and puffs, in frustration, before stating:

**"Okay, that's it, enough now. I can't take it anymore. Seeing you like this."**

Bellamy looks up at his book at the tone of his baby sister's voice and stares at her, puzzled and a little annoyed.

**"Hello to you, too, O,"** he says, sarcastic.

The brunette pushes his feet from where he has put them on his coffee table and sits in their place, then watches him with a frown.

**"Don't play dumb with me, big brother. When are you going to tell me what's wrong?"**

Bellamy sighs and straightens upon his brown leather sofa. He closes his book before putting it down beside him; it wasn't like he was reading it anyway. Octavia keeps staring at him with her inquisitive green eyes and the young man senses that this is a conversation he can no longer avoid.

For too long Octavia has been walking on eggshells around him, asking how he is doing without coercing a confession, trying to get him to talk without confronting him. And if he can't help but smile affectionately when he sees how much his sister has changed at the touch of her boyfriend, he knew this masquerade couldn't last forever. The Octavia before Lincoln would have never hesitated to get in his face, to force words out of him, to nag him day and night until he finally spilled everything. The last six months with him have softened her, taught her to show restraint and respect for the feelings of others.

Bellamy is actually quite proud of the fact that she lasted two months and twelve days before exploding.

**"I'm fine,"** he says though, unable to show anything but stubbornness.

His sister takes a deep breath and then says:

**"Come on, Bellamy, I've been watching you mope for over two months now. You've been in there all the time, you're not even going out with Miller and Monroe anymore. We haven't seen your face in the bar or at parties in weeks."**

**"It's 'cause I'm trying to concentrate on my novel sequel, O. I'm a writer, remember, and now that I've managed to get published, I have important deadlines to keep."**

It's not really a lie, not quite. Bellamy did spend a lot of time writing in the last few weeks or at least trying to write, but that was mostly an excuse to avoid socializing.

**"It's Valentine's Day in two days, Bell,"** his sister goes on.

He can't help but roll his eyes. He should have known that Octavia's sudden visit had a purpose. Bellamy suddenly regrets the time when his younger sister was loudly proclaiming that the lovers' holiday was only a commercial event and was refusing to bend to the demands of this capitalist society. This year she would surely be spoiled by Lincoln, who was, in addition to all the qualities she was always enumerating, a true romantic.

**"Do you have any plans?"** she says as if she hasn't noticed. **"It's been a long time since we've seen Gina, either. I thought things were getting serious between you two?"**

At those words, Bellamy winces. Nothing had happened between him and Gina yet, and the young woman wasn't the one he wanted in his life anymore, but that was a completely different story a few months before. He remembers a time when they could have been headed somewhere, together; a time when their friendship could have turned into something more intimate when he almost hoped for it.

However, instead of saying exactly that to his sister, he only replies:

**"I don't think that's any of your business."**

She lets out a malicious chuckle that almost makes him shudder, before affirming the greatest of truths:

**"You know very well your business is my business, Bellamy. It's as true as you've always stuck your nose in my personal life. Even Lincoln can testify to that."**

She's not wrong, Bellamy hadn't exactly been kind to the young man at the beginning of their relationship, for... for reasons he doesn't want to explain.

**"I'm your sister, I worry about you. And also, I would love to be auntie someday,"** she adds cheerfully. **"It's not by staying within your four walls that it will happen."**

Despite Octavia's eager, predatory smile, Bellamy can only huff.

**"Come on, if you don't have the guts to call and ask her out, I can do it for you, you know. I like Gina, unlike the rest of your conquests. And besides, I'm sure she'll say yes, she was always making heart eyes at you-"**

**"O',"** he cuts, already tired by the young woman's insistence.

But already, his little sister grabs his phone from the coffee table, types the four digits of his code (Octavia's year of birth, of course) and unlocks it without further ado. Bellamy catches it before she can snoop on his contacts, or worse, his social networks or search history. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but he still doesn't feel ready to explain to her what she'll find there.

**"All right, play it that way. I don't care, I've got her number too,"** she mumbles, taking her phone out of her pocket.

If Bellamy didn't know her so well, he certainly wouldn't be so worried. However, Octavia has always been one of those people capable of the best and the worst. Her brother knows that she is willing to do anything to achieve her goals.

**"Octavia, stop. What do you want?"**

Looking evil, her sister holds her phone to her chest, thinks for a few seconds and then offers:

**"Either you tell me what's going on in that little head of yours, or I'll call Gina myself."**

Bellamy knows that's not just empty words. She won't even do it out of the goodness of her heart, nor as a favor to Gina, nor to make sure that her brother's love life leads somewhere... No, she'll do it to find out the truth. Because she's figured out that he's hiding something from her and she won't let go until he tells her what it is.

So he finds himself weighing the pros and cons.

What price does it cost him, anyway, to explain why his mood has been both nostalgic and sultry since the beginning of 2021. Nothing except the fact that she'll probably laugh at him for months and months and tell this story to all the people in their common circle, who in turn will laugh at him for months and months—

Okay, he's screwed.

But at the same time, Bellamy doesn't want to go out with Gina either. She's sweet and kind and funny and smart and... She's got all the best qualities, and Bellamy would want to want to go out with her, but all he can think about when he's considering going out with someone is that girl. All he sees are the blonde curls hidden under the beige hat and the purple scarf tied around her neck, and the way the red of her cheeks caused by the bite of the cold brought out the pink of her full lips. The mesmerizing way in which the bright lights made the blue of her eyes shine. And every time he closes his own, he recalls the memory of their kiss, the warmth of their embrace. He can almost still feel her body pressed against his and the taste of her tongue on his.

**"Bellamy?"**

His sister's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and when he looks into her eyes, he can read concern and compassion.

**"You have that expression again,"** she says.

Unfortunately, he knows very well what that expression is. It's the expression of someone heartbroken, which is ridiculous, really, because he can't be heartbroken.

To be heartbroken, you have to have lost someone.

Someone with whom you've lived a story, with whom you've shared hundreds of things and moments.

A person you've been madly in love with.

And above all, someone whose name you at least know.

And yet, even though he doesn't know this stranger, doesn't know her name, and has exchanged only one hold, only one kiss with her, that's exactly how he feels. He remembers the pain he felt when the crowd pulled their two bodies apart and interrupted what was possibly the best kiss of his life and his heart shatters in his chest every time.

Bellamy _is_ heartbroken.

He is well aware that he is being dramatic, but hey, as a writer, it's part of his job, so at least he forgives himself for that.

**"Tell me what's going on, please,"** his sister begs again.

Finally, he gives in. Not because of Octavia's threat to contact Gina, nor because he wants to get rid of his overly curious little sister, nor because he knows that now that she's asked the question that's been bothering her for weeks, she'll never give up. He gives in because he can no longer deny how lonely he feels. After all, maybe all he needs to go through this and move on is to share his regrets with someone.

Regardless of the urge to confide in someone, the words get stuck in his throat too tight with sadness, guilt, and shame. The sadness of having lost this miracle placed in his hands, the guilt of having only himself to blame for letting this beautiful girl escape him, and the shame because...

Who falls in love with a stranger at the first kiss shared among a crowd of unknowns on a December 31st?

_You, it seems..._

So, without a word, he unlocks his phone and presents it to his sister on his Facebook search page. He doesn't react to her puzzled look, just gives up his mobile, rests his hands on his knees and stares at them with his brown eyes while waiting for Octavia's reaction, restless.  
She will understand what's going on soon enough when she realizes that it's on this website that he's done most of his investigations, starting with the city event for New Year's Eve and tracing all the photos, videos and posts put online by the people who were in Arkadia's main square for the occasion.

Except that apart from the fact that his Jane Doe is small, petite and blonde; that she has blue eyes and that she kissed him as if the world was about to stop turning at any minute (and Bellamy credits this more to the impulse that immediately passed between them than to her kissing technique), he knows nothing about this girl.

It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, and that's why the profiles of about forty blue-eyed blondes scroll before his sister's eyes, all the ones who were there that night and who more or less fit his memory of his stranger.

Only, to his utter dismay, none of them is the person he's looking for.

His sister looks at the screen for a moment before frowning and hesitantly asking:

**"Is this your way of telling me you prefer blondes now? Because if that's the problem, there's this girl at work, Bree..."**

Bellamy picks up the phone with a sigh.

**"That's not it, O. Do you remember that night on New Year's Eve? When we all went to see the fireworks?"**

**"Yes, of course, it's the last time you bothered to accept one of our invitations, I can't forget that... But why are you bringing this up?" **

As she connects the dots and the beginning of an explanation forms in her mind, Octavia's face lights up. However, Bellamy soon realizes that she can't understand everything by herself. So, he finally tries to find the right words and, without daring to take his eyes off his hands, tells his version of the evening of the 31st of December 2020.

From the moment they arrived on the square with Lincoln, Miller, and Jackson, to the moment when his back hit the young woman's back. He recounts their kiss and the fiery electric current that had passed through him as their lips met. He explains the longing, the need that had overwhelmed him at the moment they began to part, and the fusing way they had lost themselves in each other when neither of them had agreed to part.

**"I swear, O'. I've never felt that way before, with anybody. This kind of connection, this chemistry..."**

**"So what?"** says his sister, overexcited. **"Did you get her number? Why haven't I met her yet?"**

Then he tells the story of the parting. The crowd ripping them apart. The dizziness. That paradoxical moment when, at the dawn of a new year, time had stopped. Then the long minutes of looking for her without meeting her eyes again, until he finally returned to his sister and their friends. Then leaving with an empty heart and empty hands.

**"I know it sounds crazy,"** sighs the young man as he runs a hand through his brown curls and clears his throat, **"but since that night, I haven't felt like myself... It's as if— as if a part of me is missing."**

**"That doesn't sound crazy. Pathetic maybe, but you're allowed to be dramatic. You're not a writer for nothing after all."**

His sister's joke works and brings a smile to Bellamy's face...

**"I don't know what to do, O', I've been looking for her everywhere, on all the social networks. I even wrote one of those stupid posts explaining how we met and asking if anyone knew her, but it's like searching for a needle in a fucking haystack."**

Octavia lets a silence pass before asking:

**"And did it ever occur to you to ask for my help earlier?"**

A pause and:

**"What? Why would I have asked you that? You were there, okay, but it's not like you saw us."**

**"Do I need to remind you what you got me for Christmas?"**

**"No, O, I waited for two hours in line to get it when it came out, I don't think I can forget..."**

In response, Octavia holds up the said gift, her brand new phone, and shakes it under Bellamy's nose and says:

**"By New Year's Eve, I still hadn't gotten over it. I was shooting pictures of everything I could see. I took at least 500 shots of that night. I haven't even had time to sort through them yet."**

Bellamy is only silent for a few seconds, but the glimmer of hope is so strong it almost dazzles him.

**"Why didn't you tell me this before?"** he exclaims.

The young woman laughs at his enthusiasm, proud and happy to have brought a smile back to her big brother's face.

**"It's more like, why didn't you ask the world's greatest sister for help before?"**

Octavia has barely finished her sentence before Bellamy has already got up to grab his laptop and the USB cord from his own phone to connect the girl's phone to it. The latter hardly has time to protest that already, the 488 photographs of this 31st of December 2020 are being downloaded to Bellamy's hard drive. Bellamy is staring at the loading bar with his eyes as if he could force it to speed up under the simple force of his gaze. Octavia puts a hand on his thigh to calm his impatient jolts when they become too obvious. Grateful for her presence and investment, Bellamy puts his own hand on hers and squeezes her fingers.

When the pictures finally appear on the computer, they get to work without delay, opening each one and zooming in on every detail, deleting irrelevant images immediately. It's only after almost two hours, as night begins to fall and they maximize the 319th photo, that Bellamy begins to lose hope. With each additional shoot, his mood darkens, his tone turns harsh, his comments bitter. So much that Octavia asks him to go out on his balcony to get some fresh air.

He enjoys the chilly early evening breeze when his sister's voice reaches him from the living room:

**"Uh, Bellamy... Check this out."**

He rushes over the young woman's shoulder and looks at the computer screen where a selfie of Octavia and Lincoln is displayed. Both of them smile at the camera, their eyes filled with love and playfulness. Usually, he might have found it cute, but now his patience is really running out, and he can't help answering, a little abruptly:

**"O', if I wanted to see a picture of you and Lincoln, I would've checked your Instagram. Honestly—"**

His sister stops him right away and sighs:

**"Not this, idiot. Here, look."**

Then she points to a tiny detail in the top left-hand corner of the picture. First, Bellamy recognizes the dark blue coat he was wearing, then the black scarf he had tied around his neck, and his brown curls. When his eyes land on two bright blue irises, he holds his breath in fear that the miracle will disappear again.

Yet there she is, his beautiful stranger. Wrapped in her long beige coat, the waves of her blond hair cascading fluidly over her shoulders. In the picture, she stares at him with a surprised look, and on her lips, so soft and warm, there is already an ounce of a smile.

Octavia moves on to the next picture, and for once Bellamy doesn't even pay attention to the main object in the picture that would normally make him jump (namely, Octavia and Lincoln kissing), but keeps his gaze fixed on his own image. In this picture, he is now kissing the young woman whom he held close to him in a possessive embrace. She herself has put her arms around his neck and they seem lost in their embrace, unaware of the world around them, just as he remembers.

**"You found her..."** he whispers, in shock.

Amidst the storm of emotion that is raging inside him, Bellamy has yet to find a haven to hold on to. Yet he continues to look at that tiny piece of photo and what eventually overwhelms him is joy, and even stronger, hope.

**"I can see why you're desperate to find this girl now,"** his sister replies.

Octavia's gentle voice brings him back to Earth. He had expected mockery and laughter, but she offers him nothing but kindness and understanding.

**"Thank you, O'. You don't know how much this means to me..."**

She smiles and puts a hand on his forearm.

**"You're welcome, big brother. I owe you a lot. And all I want is for you to be happy. If I can help, then I'm even happier."**

Bellamy can't believe what he's hearing. He didn't expect such maturity and dedication. Of course, these are qualities that Octavia has always shown but that were often drowned under her fiery nature, impulsivity, and passion. "Remind me to buy you a new phone when it becomes obsolete," he jokes to lighten the emotionally charged atmosphere of the room.

She laughs and they both turn their attention back to the screen.

**"So, what now?"** Bellamy asks, suddenly nervous at the thought that they've only come so far.

After all, his Jane Doe is still a stranger.

**"Now I'm going home,"** answers Octavia with a tired sigh.

**"What? But, O', you can't—" **

**"Chill out, Bell. Lincoln's expecting me for dinner, and I don't want to keep him waiting. I'll work on your photos tonight, post them on the Facebook pages that can help you, and then it's just a waiting game."**

Bellamy's face suddenly crumbles. He thought the game was almost won, but it wasn't.

**"I wanted to ask her out for Valentine's Day,"** he grumbles, sore loser.

**"Who knows,"** said his sister as she got up and gathers her things. **"Maybe it won't. Maybe it'll be faster than you think... Maybe she's looking for you too."**

With those last words, she kisses him on the cheek and walks out of his apartment. Long after she has left, and as Bellamy lets his eyes and mind daydream over the pictures she has left on his computer, Octavia's words still echo in his soul.

_**"Maybe she's looking for you, too."**_


	5. We Meet Again (the crowd 3)

**February 13, 2021**

At dawn, it's with a beating heart that Bellamy is opening his eyes. One thing's for sure, this stranger hunt is not good for his latent anxiety.

His first thoughts turn to his sister. He hopes with all his heart that the search she carried out last night has led to something. He is aware that he's a little too impatient, but who could blame him, it's already been 71 days that he waits.

His first action is to grab his phone, put for charging on his bedside table, and frantically read the notifications that appear on the screen.

Among the emails, advertisements, and notifications from his various social networks, three messages from Octavia appear on the screen. The first one is from last night, just before midnight and says :

**_"I've done my best to cover most of the social networks and ran Lincoln's contacts at City Hall, so I hope this will help."_**

The second one is dated that very day, 7:00 a.m.:

_**"I met this girl at work. She's a friend and a genius."Maybe she can zoom in and improve your Jane Doe's photo. I'll stop by before work. I'll keep you posted."**_

The third was sent at 8:47 a.m., forty-five minutes before Bellamy woke up, and leaves him perfectly confused as to its contents. Octavia's message just gives an address to Arkadia and an appointment time: 11 am.

_**"Don't be late,"**_ warns his little sister.

Immediately, he straightens up and sits down in his bed, fumbles for the glasses he never puts on, but without which he has such difficulty seeing if he hasn't put his contacts in, then looks for Octavia's contact in his phone and starts a call. After an eternity, the answering machine goes off and Bellamy simply hangs up and makes a second call. This time, the young woman picks up after a few rings, but he barely has time to say a word:

**"You've got to stop calling me now, Bellamy. I'm working. Be at the address I gave you at 11:00, just trust me."**

He hasn't got time to say anything that she's already hung up and the young man feels he's not done hearing about it. He checks the time on his phone: 9:30. Octavia is indeed in the middle of work at that time of the day. He knows how much her job means to her and how she makes it her duty to devote herself entirely to each of the patients she receives in physiotherapy.

He runs his hands over his face and through his hair before drowning a yawn. Normally, he doesn't get up that late, but he had a hard time falling asleep the night before and his sleep was far from restful. He still has time to eat his breakfast and get ready. He' s only about ten minutes away from the address given by Octavia, which should allow him to get there on time.  
On-time yes, but for what reason? he wonders, jumping out of bed, suddenly energized by the mystery presented by his sister.

_What has Octavia found that's so pressing?_ he questions as he pours his coffee while he takes a quick shower and gets dressed.

_Maybe she's found his Jane Doe?_ He hopes so while taking an endless amount of time to find and choose a shirt that suits him. He hesitates for a good five minutes between dark blue and light green and finally puts on a long-sleeved black henley.

_No, that can't be possible_, he decides.

After all, he's been searching for months, Octavia can't have found the woman he kissed in just one night, it would be sheer fate, it would be madness.

When 10:30 shows up on his watch, he swallows the end of his coffee in one gulp, puts on his winter coat and the same scarf he wore on the evening of the 31st of December and heads straight for the address given by his little sister in the text he received. Outside, the cold, invigorating air sharpens his mind. But his nerves are so raw that he decides to walk to his destination.

Bellamy turns the corner at 10:55 a.m. when he arrives at the place his sister has told him. His frowns furrow when he realizes that it's a store. Possibly one of those places where you can fix anything and everything, from computers to electronics to kitchen equipment, according to the storefront.

He hesitates for a few seconds, just long enough to wonder if Octavia has given him the right address and if it isn't just one of her jokes before he finally understands that he'll only get answers to his questions by pushing the door.  
Inside, he realized that he had correctly judged the function of the workshop. Dozens of electronic and mechanical devices of all kinds are scattered around. Bellamy makes his way to the counter, taking care not to knock anything over in his path. When he reaches the back of the store, however, he is surprised to find no one there. He guesses that he's not alone, however, when the sound of what sounds like a circular saw reaches him from the back of the store.

At first, he tries to call out a loud "Hey", hoping that the person hears it, but it's a waste of time on top of all that noise. Suddenly, a kind of doorbell with a sign "press here if you need me" attracts his attention and he pushes the red button without waiting. No sound comes from this little press, but two seconds later the noise stops and he can hear footsteps coming in his direction.

The young woman pushing the curtain of pearls is quite stunning. Her long brown hair is held back by a wild ponytail, her dark eyes are inquisitive and shine with intelligence that it would be useless to try to deny, her golden complexion is enhanced by a bright red leather jacket which must certainly go very well with the fiery temperament she cannot hide.

She frowns at first as if annoyed to be disturbed. Finally, when she sets her eyes on Bellamy, her gaze softens.

**"I thought you wouldn't hear me, with all the noise,"** Bellamy begins to say hello.

The young woman points to the watch connected to her wrist and presses the button in front of them. Immediately, a powerful ringing rings from the object that also seems to be vibrating and the young man opens his eyes, surprised.  
"Don't worry, I'm prepared," she explains as if the demonstration wasn't enough. **"Even though WICK SHOULD HAVE BEEN AT THE RECEPTION,"** she exclaims afterward.

And a tiny little voice from afar says, **"Sorry, Rae!"**

Satisfied, the young woman finally turns to Bellamy and it would be an understatement to say that the next words that come out of her mouth shook him to the bone.

**"So, it's you, then?"**

**"I'm sorry- what?"**

**"The 31st of December's man. The stranger who kisses like a god... Is that you?"**

Immediately, he feels his cheeks turning red and his palms getting sweaty. He knew he would be mocked by Octavia someday, but not by strangers. He runs a hand down the back of his neck and answers, self-conscious:

**"Well, I don't know what Octavia told you, but-"**

**"Oh, no, it wasn't Octavia who described your kissing technique to me in great detail. Besides, that would be weird, wouldn't it? Aren't you guys supposed to be siblings?"**

This time Bellamy doesn't understand anything anymore, he just stammers a short:

**"Yeah, that's right."**

Silence settles in between them, a long, disturbing silence in which Bellamy feels he's been x-rayed, analyzed from head to toe. To end the examination, he reaches out one hand and says:

**"Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Bellamy, by the way."**

The young woman raises an eyebrow and throws a smile before shaking his hand while replying:

**"I don't know if I'm not going to go for "the kissing god."**

Her carnivorous smile widens at his embarrassment and she bursts out laughing before saying:

**"I am Raven. It's nice to finally meet you."**

**"Okay, so... Where did you hear about me, if you don't mind me asking?"**

**"From Clarke, of course!"** she exclaimed as if it were obvious.

Yet, Bellamy may suddenly think back to all the people he knows in his mind in a flash, but he can't remember anyone by that name.

**"And Clarke is... ?"** Bellamy asks.

Raven finally seems to realize something and widens her eyes.

**"Ah yes, it's true that Octavia and I had decided that we wouldn't tell you anything until that moment. Clarke is my best friend. She's the woman you met on the evening of December 31. And I can tell you, you made quite an impression."**

Bellamy's losing it. His heartbeat is racing and ringing in his ears. Raven, this woman so intense and strange, did she actually just burst into his life out of nowhere and said what she just said? He comes to his senses enough to ask:

**"I'm sorry, what? Are you sure?"**

**"I can't be wrong, much less now that I have the pleasure of meeting you in person. Clarke's been bugging me about this since the moment I pulled it out of her. It's a miracle we managed to find you, I still can't believe you're Octavia's brother!"**

Bellamy is struggling to find the words, which seems a strange paradox, being a writer, but it seems the universe likes to play tricks on him these days.

**"You know Octavia?"**

**"For almost two years, yes. She's the one who did my rehab after my bike accident."**

She pats the splint she wears on her knee that Bellamy didn't even notice.

**"Physical therapy brings us closer. We've hit it off, and we see each other for coffee once in a while. When she called me for help this morning, I wasn't going to say no. She's pretty much the reason I'm walking again today, I owe her forever. I can't tell you how shocked I was when she showed me the pictures and I recognized Clarke!"**

Well, despite what she assumes, Bellamy can perfectly relate to Raven's reaction, because the shock he feels at that moment seems unmatched. He looks around him, lost, wonders where the hidden cameras are, wonders if Octavia will come out of a corner of the store shouting "I got you", wonders even if the blonde from his memories will suddenly appear behind him. Can he be that lucky? Can luck do things so well that it offers him the chance to find his stranger this way?

**"Clarke isn't here, by the way,"** the young woman adds, watching him throw frantic glances around.

Immediately, a beginning of disappointment overwhelms Bellamy.

**"Don't be mad about it. Before I threw her to the lion's den, I wanted to make sure you weren't a crazy murderer."**

**"And ten minutes is enough time for you to figure that from someone?"** he asks, impressed.

**"Ten minutes talking to you and seeing how you can't believe your luck, yeah. And the two hours I spent researching about you this morning has convinced me that you're a good guy. It's not a little criminal record from ten years ago that's going to make me question you..."**

Bellamy crosses his arms, suspicious.

**"This criminal record is confidential. It was deleted years ago."**

In front of him, Raven crosses her arms as well, totally unimpressed.

**"You don't know me very well yet, but I want you to know I don't let details like that stop me."**

Their exchange is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the store's front door opening behind Bellamy. Surprised, he turns to observe the intruder and can only remain silent as a blonde tornado makes its way to them, too busy removing her (beige) hat and (red) scarf to notice them, and exclaims with a clear voice:

**"What was the emergency, Raven? I had to drive all the way across town to get here, it better be impor-"**

The new girl freezes a few steps away from them when she meets two brown eyes which she has dreamed of far too many times and for far too long. The two strangers, who are not quite strangers at all, stare at each other, looking as if they don't believe in this reality that would finally offer them everything they wish for after having so suddenly torn it away from them a few months earlier.

**"And that's my cue to leave. Clarke, ring me if a customer comes in,"** Raven shouts as she disappears into the back room.

The muffled voice of the mechanic, however, echoes one last time:

**"And don't forget that Octavia and I are expecting a big thank-you for all this. Perhaps even some rights over your very first newborn..."**

At these words, Bellamy's cheeks burn bright and he can see the same red rising to those of the young woman. After a few seconds, the latter clears her throat and asks, her voice tied by the same emotion that shakes him at the very moment:

**"Who is Octavia?"**

In turn, Bellamy clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair and answers:

**"Octavia... It's-it's my little sister, actually. It seems she and Raven met in physical therapy after a motorcycle accident, I think?"**

In front of him, big blue eyes flicker with a sudden understanding.

**"Oh! Her name' Blake, right?"**

It's Bellamy's turn to look surprised.

**"Yes, uh- how-?"**

The girl lets out a little laugh and explains:

**"Well, I've gone with Raven a couple of times to her sessions, so-"**

Bellamy is having a hard time grasping the full implications of what's happening at this very moment. One thing is certain, however, and it's the deep joy that strikes him from the gut to the heart; the thrill of excitement he feels from head to toe, and the determination in the depths of his soul that this time, he won't let her go.

**"Can I buy you a coffee-"** he asks at the same time Clarke offers:

**"Would you like to go for a drink?" **

They both start laughing at the strangeness of the situation, and the suddenly lighter mood pushes Bellamy to take the few steps between them. If he notices the short breath that the young woman takes from his closeness, which reflects so well the feverish state he is in, he doesn't react to it, but simply says:

**"I'm Bellamy."**

**"Bellamy..."** repeats the blonde with a smile, and it would be a lie to say he doesn't like the way his name rolls on her tongue and caresses her lips. Lips that he stares at perhaps a little too hard, by the way... **"I am-"**

**"Clarke,"** he cuts her, and he also appreciates how her name rings on his lips. **"Raven told me, yes. I'm not about to forget that."**

Her blue eyes shine brightly, reminding Bellamy of the ocean's reflection in the summer sun and making him realize that the December lights had nothing to do with the fabulous glow in them. He wants to lose himself in that gaze, to drown in it again and again.

So he says:

**"I could use a drink, to be honest..."**

The young woman smiles and nods, playfully:

**"I could use more than one."**

She puts her hat back on her curls and begins to tie the scarf around her neck when Bellamy steps in:

**"Wait, let me help you."**

Clarke offers him the cloth and lets him place it gently around her neck. She loses herself in his reassuring closeness, in the same woody and strong fragrance that he was wearing that evening and which her senses are recognizing without her head having a say. His eyes are the same warm color she's been trying to lay down on paper since that evening, a mixture of the soft wood of the trees and the hot chocolate she likes to drink when it snows. She had misjudged his freckles, however, there are many more than she remembers and her hands are eager to count them.

And his lips... His lips... He's busy lifting the hair caught in her scarf when she can't hold it any longer, tiptoes and brushes them against hers just for a second, a small moment during which Bellamy holds his breath and stays completely still.

Clarke's azure eyes are wide open, caught in the darkness of his own, a true question asked without a word.

**"Sorry, I just needed-"** she begins, suddenly wavering at his lack of response.

Her sentence is interrupted when Bellamy's mouth crashes down on hers with a force that makes her lose her balance. But the young man is there, right next to her. One of his arms comes to hold her by the waist to prevent her from falling over, while his other hand rests on her cheek. Finally, Clarke feels the touch of his fingers on her skin, a touch that had been forbidden during their first kiss because of the gloves he was wearing.

However, she doesn't have enough time to dwell on this detail, too busy with his lips dancing on hers and their tongues tangled as one of her hands gets wrapped in his brown curls. When an eternity later, but at the same time far too early, they begin to run out of breath and part, the same excited smile hovers over their faces.

Clarke links her hands to Bellamy's and finishes the sentence she had started earlier before their two worlds shift completely once again, but this time blending together in the most beautiful way.

**"I just needed to know I wasn't making it all up."**

The young man smiles and squeezes his fingers around hers, a way of telling her how much he understands her.

**"And so... this drink?"** he offers again.

Clarke laughs and nods before pointing to the door behind them:

**"After you."**

Needless to say, neither Clarke nor Bellamy are spending Valentine's Day 2021 away from each other, or any other Valentine's Day for that matter.

The year 2021 ends in the same way that 2020 ended and in the same way that 2022 begins: Bellamy's lips on Clarke's in a languid, lingering, passionate kiss under the festive lights of Arkadia.

A few years later, Octavia and Raven do have rights over their newborns, when they are both named godmothers to their twins.


	6. If there's one thing I know (1)

**_If there's one thing I know (it's that I love you) - Part 1_**

Clarke's pregnant.

Clarke is pregnant and Bellamy had no intention of finding out about it before she did. No. Absolutely not.

But here's the thing, he's been worried about her lately.

She seems constantly exhausted, so much so that she gets distracted sometimes. And there's this dizziness that she's been feeling every time she shifts positions. And the meals she skips, pretending she's not hungry.

But _his _Clarke is always so full of energy, so much so that it would be draining if he didn't find it cute. She's so meticulous and always thinks about everything, so much that what he thought was a virtue sometimes turns out to be her worst flaw. And if there's one thing that has always impressed him about his girlfriend, it's that she's able to eat as much food as he does, if not more.

So, Bellamy's worried. And if there's one thing Bellamy doesn't know how to handle, it's his concern for the people he loves. Yet he should know by now that his mind has a way of transforming him from "harmlessly worried" to "madly anxious".

First, it's just a slight ripple at the edge of his thoughts. After nearly fourteen hours of sleep, Clarke thanks him for cooking her favorite breakfast, but refuses to taste her scrambled eggs.

Then, the ripple extends and reaches the shore where waves begin to form. Clarke returns to their apartment after two hours of class at ten AM. She doesn't even realize that he's still there in their bathroom finishing his daily shave. She makes a direct line from the door to their bed, where she crashes without even taking off her coat or shoes. She's already half asleep when Bellamy appears in the doorway, his face still covered in foam, and asks her what's going on. Barely coherent, she explains that she can't go to her anatomy lecture because she's too tired.

The harmless worry changes into dread and the waves rise threateningly high and dangerous. Clarke Griffin, first in class since her very first day of kindergarten, never late, never missing a class even when sick, always ahead of schedule, smart, hard-working, and talented, is refusing to go to class. Nothing is right anymore. The world must have stopped turning and Bellamy hasn't realized it yet. If Clarke starts skipping classes on the pretext that she doesn't need them, the apocalypse is coming. Somewhere in the world, hundreds of nuclear missiles are about to fall on people's heads.

In a daze, he takes off his girlfriend's clothes and tucks her into bed before going back and finishing shaving. When he returns to their bedroom to get dressed, she's already in a deep sleep. The fact that she's been sleeping for twelve hours at a time for several weeks, but still feels the need to sleep during the day doesn't seem to bother her. One thing is certain though: it bothers Bellamy.

When she wakes up five hours later, eats three crackers, dozes in front of the TV for an hour, then falls back asleep right next to him, the threatening waves curl in on themselves, destructive and relentless rollers, and Bellamy is no longer simply bothered. He is panicking.

Fortunately, he knows how to handle panicking (he doesn't).

He simply tries to convince himself that it's all in his head. He knows how he tends to overreact when he worries about people who are close to him. He knows that this anxiety can very quickly cause him to become overwhelming. He knows that it is partly because of these annoying behaviors that he has sometimes scared away the people around him. And if there's one person Bellamy doesn't want to scare away, it's Clarke.

He knows he shouldn't put words to such thoughts, because he's still young at twenty-six, and her even more so with her twenty-one candles just blown out, but Clarke is the one.

He feels it deep down and can't imagine a life where she wouldn't be at his side. He's loved her deeply for three years now. Three incredible years that he wants to repeat infinitely, that he wants to repeat as many times as he gets the chance.

It's this genuine love that turns panic into terror the first time she's overcome by vertigo. One second she's there, sitting across from him in their little kitchen, too busy pushing food off the edge of her plate to eat anything, but still there with him, talking and joking. The other second, she stands up to fill her glass with water, and there she is, stumbling. The glass crashes on the floor just before her, the shards of glass shatter on the wooden floor around the room, and Clarke collapses with them. She's just conscious enough to keep her head from hitting the floor.

Right away, Bellamy's there, next to her. His first impulse is to get her up, but she refuses and asks him to raise her legs. She is so pale, so frail, almost nonsensical, but he listens to her. After a few minutes, she regains color and enough strength to stand up, but only to scream in pain when she presses her palm to the ground and the piece of glass that was stuck in her flesh sinks even deeper under her skin.

When they go into the bathroom to remove the fragment, they find several more in her forearms and even one in her lower back that has pierced through her shirt. There is blood, so much blood, that Bellamy is on the verge of losing his composure. His hands are shaking as he undresses Clarke, then continue to tremble as he removes the pieces of glass, then again as he wipes the blood off and cleans the wounds.

Clarke doesn't say anything at first, and perhaps that's the scariest part. Bellamy knows that she learned to keep her cool even in the toughest situations. The hardships she's been through in life and her training to become a surgeon have taught her to remain calm and clear-headed in all circumstances. She has always known how to comfort him, even when it seemed impossible, even when his mother's breast cancer was discovered (she has been in remission for a year now), even when he was called to the ER because his sister had been in an accident (she has since fully recovered and is busy doing whatever the hell she wants).

However, at that moment, she does not even bother to reassure him, to say that it's nothing, to say that everything will be fine.

She could at least acknowledge that her condition is unusual and ask for help, Bellamy thinks. But no, she just sits there, on the edge of their little bathtub, staring at nothing. She seems almost gone, lost in another world. She lets him dress her wounds and put the bandages on without saying anything, and when Bellamy's gaze scans her face for a second between each movement that he fears might be painful, the young woman's eyes remain focused on the little stack of broken glass that keeps piling up.

Until she finally observes, in a very small voice:

"Who would believe that such a small glass could shatter so much..."

For Bellamy, it's the last straw. He can't believe his ears.

The worry that turned into concern, that turned itself into fear, that turned itself into terror... all those violent emotions that gently overwhelmed him, that swallowed him up, that tried to drown him, finally get the better of him.

No matter how hard he tries to fight this part of him that is obsessed with control and with the well-being of the people he loves, he's not superhuman, and even less so when it comes to Clarke. He's lost so much already, survived so much already... But he can't lose Clarke. She's too important to him.

He had sworn that he wouldn't meddle, that he wouldn't intrude, that he'd let her take care of herself, but in the end, it's her complete disregard for her health and utter disinterest in what's been going on for weeks that tears down the last bit of his self-control.

The rush of adrenaline from the whirlwind of emotions that roars through him brings him to his feet suddenly. The tweezers he was using a second earlier to gently remove the shards of glass from Clarke's arm falls and clatters on the porcelain tub. Finally, Clarke looks up at him and meets his eyes.

She looks so fragile all of a sudden that Bellamy would almost feel guilty about letting his anxiety and anger pour out if they didn't completely control him at that very moment.

"Are you kidding me?" he shouts abruptly, and Clarke jumps at his unexpected outburst.

"I'm sorry," she mutters blushing, and Bellamy can't figure out if she's apologizing for being so careless with her well-being, or if she's calling him out to ask him why he's getting so upset.

Whatever the reason is, he can't let this go on like he let all the other signs go by before. And that's exactly what he tells her:

"Clarke, I didn't say anything when you were so tired you couldn't even go to school, when you were so tired you spent your weekends sleeping. I didn't say anything when you lost your appetite. I don't say anything when you forget your lunch in the fridge and leave in the morning on an empty stomach, or when you barely eat a cookie during the day... But I just can't keep my mouth shut anymore. What's going on, Clarke?"

The young woman stares at him, taken aback. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of it, as if the words she wanted to say and the excuse she wanted to give were stuck in her throat. Bellamy stands there, motionless, unable to calm down the frantic beating of his heart or his heavy breathing. He waits; waits for her to explain herself, to express herself, to say something but nothing comes out, and Bellamy finally understands:

"You didn't realize?" he asks, astounded. "How is that possible, Clarke?" he demands. Between the two of us, aren't you supposed to be the doctor? We've barely seen each other for weeks and we live in the same apartment. The time you spend here with me, you spend it sleeping... I can't even remember the last time I saw you studying in the kitchen or just the last time you managed to watch an entire movie with me!"

This time Clarke frowns and mumbles:

"You're right, I'm tired right now, but that's no excuse to snap at me like that. Between school, work, and my internship at the hospital, I'm just having a hard time finding my rhythm, that's all! But it's not like I'm giving up on you-"

Bellamy cuts her off immediately. If there's one thing he knows, it's how sensitive Clarke is to the very idea of leaving the people who matter to her. She had had to make that choice before today, and she had been blamed heavily for it. Yet it took a lot of determination to let go of her mother when she refused to deal with her addiction or to break up with her first boyfriend when he was playing a double game.

"That's not what I mean, Clarke. I don't feel rejected. I can see you're busy and can barely stay awake. How many times have I had to carry you to bed myself these past few weeks? This isn't about me. This is about you. It's not healthy to be this tired, you know that."

Stubborn to the bone, Clarke responds:

"Winter is coming. The days are shorters, it's probably only temporary. Perhaps I just miss the sunlight a little?"

Bellamy's mind softens with the memory of the last time they enjoyed the sunshine. Their last vacation, in the first days of September, had been wonderful. He sees the little yellow-walled cabin by the water again. The white sand of the beach in front of their door and the blue of the ocean as far as the eye can see. The afternoons basking in the sun, the evenings walking hand in hand, and the fervent nights sleeping skin to skin.

However, these memories also bring to the surface of his thoughts images of a Clarke so full of life and joy, so different from the one he has in front of his eyes, that the bitterness that follows only worsens his anxiety.

So, when the young woman tries a weak:

"A simple vitamin cure and-"

He interrupts her again with:

"And is there also a cure to restore your appetite?"

She bites her lip and he recognizes the expression on her beautiful face. Frustration takes over her exhaustion and weakness and Bellamy is almost relieved to have reignited that spark in her.

"I'm doing the best I can, Bellamy. I'm eating enough food so I haven't lost any weight, anyway. I'm not going to let myself die-"

"Please stop, Clarke. Just don't-"

Clarke's always been an epicurean. As far as Bellamy's memory goes, she always enjoyed life 100%, always lived every moment 200%, always drank, and ate more than enough. She is the first to steal the fries from his plate and to rush into the kitchen when she smelled his famous cookies or scrambled eggs and bacon.

"What do you want me to say, Bellamy?"

And that's just the right question to ask. What does Bellamy want? He isn't sure at this moment. One thing is certain, he wants Clarke to get better. He'd like her to recover from the condition that's slowly draining her energy. He wants her to be herself again. If he gave in to his protective instincts, he would immediately drive her to the emergency room for tests. But it's not up to him, and Clarke knows him too well.

"Don't even think about taking me to the E.R. for tests, you know that-"

"If I listened to myself, I'd leave you no choice, Clarke. But I know why you don't want to overcrowd up the E.R., and I respect that."

"Not if there's no-"

"-No life-threatening emergency, I know, I know," he finishes for her.

He knows the song well enough to have heard it dozens, if not hundreds of times.

Yet he would like Clarke to stop putting others before herself for once. He never thought that the virtue he loved so much about her would one day become his worst enemy.

Already helpless, Bellamy sighs and runs a shaking hand through his brown curls, trying to find the right words, the ones that won't hurt her, the ones that will make her understand how worried he is, how much she means to him, how much-

"I love you, Clarke," he settles on.

Although visibly upset and exhausted, the young woman can't hold back the smile which blossoms on her lips at these words. She nods and whispers:

"I know," with the certainty of one who already has heard these three little words a hundred times.

"I'm just afraid that-"

It's too much. His voice catches in his throat and Bellamy can't finish the sentence he started, can't admit the nightmares which haunt him day and night. He remembers too well how his mother had taken too long to see a doctor back then; how Octavia and he had thought it was already too late for her; how scared they were that her breast cancer was too advanced already; how they feared that she would never win her battle against it. Bellamy doesn't want to go through that again, he can't.

"Hey..."

Clarke's heart breaks in her chest at Bellamy's expression. She grabs his hand to pull him closer to her. As soon as she reaches him, he takes her in his arms, wraps her gently enough to not stir her wounds, but strong enough so that she feels protected, loved, comforted.

"I'm fine, Bellamy. I'm here..."

Unfortunately, it's already too late for him. The wheels of his anxiety are in motion and their course is now unstoppable. These are the words Bellamy has been waiting for weeks, but now they sound hollow, hold no meaning, no weight among the dark and terrifying thoughts that are torturing the young man.

So, when she finally admits that she's indeed more tired than usual lately, and promises him that she will take the time to eat better and rest properly and that if in a few weeks she doesn't feel better, she will go to see a doctor, Bellamy doesn't hear her. No, the gears turn and turn, their mechanical sound is muffling the voice of the woman he loves. Despite him, a plan forms itself inside his brain. A plan that will ensure that Clarke is in no danger.

Sure, she won't like it if she finds out... She'll be furious, even, but what's a little bit of anger compared to all the risks she's taking by choosing to do nothing?

"Bellamy"? Are you listening to me?"

The young man shakes his head to focus his attention on the moment. When he looks up and meets the calm ocean of Clarke's eyes, he makes his choice. He won't let anything happen to her. Not if he can help it.

"I'm sorry," he says and doesn't even know if he's apologizing for his reaction today or in advance for his actions of tomorrow.

Clarke smiles at him and lays a gentle kiss on his cheek before turning to the sink to start cleaning and tidying up. Immediately, Bellamy stops her.

"Leave it, I'll take care of it."

For a second, she looks like she's about to protest but finally decides to leave the bathroom, leaving Bellamy free to carry out his plan.

* * *

_Thank you very much for reading! As usual, favorites and comments are really welcome, they are what encourage me to write more and more. More than half of this fiction is already written, so the rest should be coming soon!_

_And a special thank you for my beta, Lili 3_

**Zouzou**


	7. If there's one thing I know (2)

**Part Two**

The important thing to know about Bellamy is that he's a police officer. A detective, to be specific. And on top of being a detective, he has this natural charisma that makes any relationship easy. It's by using those relationships that he executes his plan.

"I need a favor. No questions asked."

At those words, Monty looks up from his screen and raises his eyebrows, questioningly. Bellamy can read the thoughts on his face like an open book. First the surprise, then the dozens of questions that pop into his head. Just as Monty is about to open his mouth to ask them, he's reminded of Bellamy's request: "no questions asked". So he closes his mouth and swallows back his questions. This is one of the reasons why Monty is one of his best friends. His loyalty and devotion are absolute.

"I'm listening."

Bellamy puts his bag on the scientist's desk and extracts several unreferenced samples, protected in a small plastic bag that the scientist recognizes as a freezer bag.

"I need a blood test on these samples."

He hands the bag to his lifelong friend and colleague, making sure not to let any emotion show on his face when he picks it up. Monty's dark eyes navigate from it to Bellamy, and from Bellamy back to the bag.

"Wh-," he begins.

"One favor. No questions asked," Bellamy interrupts him.

The young man frowns but nods his agreement.

"What kind of analyses?"

Bellamy thinks and then:

"All of them?"

"You do realize you're in a forensic lab here, not a medical lab?"

Bellamy sighs.

"Just do what you can, Monty. I just need to know if... if this person is all right."

"Okay", he relents. "Consider it done."

What Bellamy is far from expecting is Monty's efficiency on this. The day is coming to an end and he's finishing his paperwork when the scientist appears in front of his desk and asks him for a private conversation, claiming he has received some analysis report for their last investigation.

Immediately, the anxiety in the back of his mind, asleep from the activities of his day, awakens and roars. Shaking, Bellamy closes the door of the lab behind them and asks:

"What's up?"

Monty looks uncomfortable and it doesn't help calm Bellamy's anxiety.

"You owe me one, man," says Monty. "I had to go so far as to ask Jackson for some more analysis for this..."

Bellamy winces. Even if they're on good terms, asking a favor to his ex-boyfriend's new boyfriend can't be easy.

"And?"

"And I had to make it look like it was a sample of my blood because Jackson has "ethics"."

"And?"

"And imagine my surprise, and Jackson's, when he told me that I was pregnant."

_Pregnant_.

One word and the whole universe disappears around Bellamy. He's unaware of Monty's annoyed face, or the angry way he clasps the result sheet to his chest and snaps:

"I assume this is about Clarke?"

Bellamy's mind is blank and it must show in his eyes because Monty doesn't wait for an answer.

"Congratulations."

Bellamy can't even react, just nodding his head.

"Does she even know about this? You know a pregnancy test would have been a lot easier and quicker, right? And would have had the benefit of not making me look like an idiot?"

_Pregnant. Clarke. Doesn't know. _

Bellamy turns pale, his heart is beating so fast, he thinks he's about to faint.

"That's what I thought", mumbles Monty, exasperated. "Nothing's ever easy with you two, anyway. Good luck with breaking the news, dude. Nothing like "Babe, you're going to be a mum and I learned this before you did because I asked two of our mutual friends to run a blood test on you without even telling you" to strengthen a relationship."

Monty shakes his head, half-desperate, half-embarrassed for his friend, and leaves the room without another word, but not before rubbing a hand on his shoulder to show his unwavering support. That's Monty, incredible empathy, and a heart of gold. Despite his disapproval, he couldn't help but sympathize with Bellamy.

"Pregnant," Bellamy repeats to himself, unable to grasp all the reality hidden behind that single word.

_"What have I done?" _

The few minutes between the end of his shift and the time he'll return to Clarke won't be enough to untangle the endless knot of his problems.

Questions shock and clash in his head, finding no answers, and creating even more questions to which he has even fewer answers.

Slowly, yet all too quickly, the big clock above his head moves towards the end of the day and Bellamy can only watch Miller, Harper, and Monty pack up their things, grab their coats, and head for the exit. He finds himself unable to follow them. As he passes by, Monty gently taps him on the back and whispers a "good luck" that does nothing to help his state of mind.

His phone rings and brings him out of his reverie. On the screen is a message from Clarke.

"Hey, I'm about to go home. Can you pick up takeout from Nyko's for tonight? I'm so hungry! And we can watch the documentary you've been wanting to see for weeks on Netflix."

Bellamy's heart is melting. If he wasn't already madly in love with Clarke, he'd probably be falling for her all over again. However, the olive branch she holds out to him as a peace offering to show she wants to make an effort tastes bitter. Behind the relief of seeing her finally taking care of herself lays the taste of his betrayal.

Another message flashes and Bellamy turns paler:

"Oh, and if you go to the supermarket, we're out of beer."

There, Bellamy doesn't have a choice anymore. No matter how he does it and what he says, he'd better tell Clarke about her pregnancy as soon as possible.

* * *

Bellamy is frozen in front of the baby section when his phone rings. He has no idea how he got there, or for how long he's been standing there, lost in thought. Clarke's face lights up on his screen, and he stares at the photo of the young woman in a daze before answering.

"Hello?"

"Bellamy? I was starting to get worried. Where are you?"

He clears his throat as his gaze catches on the line of bibs hanging right in front of his eyes.

"I'm at the supermarket."

"Okay... When do you think you'll be home?"

Unable to focus, he turns his back on the row of baby equipment, only to come face to face with dozens of bottles and baby dummies of all kinds.

"Bellamy?" Clarke asks, a hint of concern in her voice over his unusual silence. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, sorry. I'm almost finished actually. I'm on my way to the checkouts, I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Cool."

A silence, then:

"About yesterday... I just wanted to tell you... I'm sorry, Bellamy. I didn't realize how tired I was. I was barely able to concentrate in class today, and I slept for two hours when I got home from school... I think you're right. I'll call Jackson first thing in the morning and ask him for a consult."

Bellamy closes his eyes, overwhelmed with unbearable guilt. For a second, he lets his emotions take over and wreck him. He deserves to feel this bad, that's for sure. If only he had waited a few more hours, everything would have worked itself out. All he had to do was wait and trust the woman he loves.

"It's me who's sorry, Princess..." he whispers, his voice choked with regret.

To the familiar nickname, Clarke lets out a small laugh before adding:

"I'm sorry I worried you. I know how hard it must have been for you to keep quiet all this time... I love you and-and I hate it when we're mad at each other.

"I love you too, Clarke."

"Just come home, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see you later."

His fingers are shaking when he presses the hang-up button on his phone. The image of Clarke darkens as the screen locks and if Bellamy had been in the liquor section, he'd probably open a bottle and take a sip to soothe his nerves.

He struggles to realize the extent of his mistake and yet he can't deny his lapse of judgment. And there aren't a hundred solutions, he just has to face the situation he put himself in now.

So Bellamy wanders through the baby section, while still going over the same thoughts and the same facts, over and over again. The same thoughts that led him here in the first place without him paying attention.

_Clarke is pregnant. _

If he's honest with himself, he can't deny that this fact fills him with doubts, apprehensions, and fears about the future. But first and foremost: he feels joy.

He knows from having already discussed it with her, that Clarke wants children one day, and he has never hidden his desire to start a family with her, so to deny the happiness of seeing his dreams come true would be hypocritical.

Yes, the timing is not perfect. He has just started his career as a detective and Clarke is in the middle of her internship. Still, Bellamy is willing to make any sacrifice for the well-being of his family like he has always been willing to do. If he has to take a few months of parental leave to stay at home with their child, it will be far from a burden to him. Besides, their family and friends all live in the same city and will surely be more than happy to help them if asked.

Also, Bellamy knows that a daycare has just opened in the hospital where Clarke is doing her internship, the same hospital where Abby and Jackson work. The precinct's only a few blocks from the place, which is ideal.

Their apartment's a little small with only one bedroom, and inconvenient too, being on the third floor with no elevator. But Bellamy has been wanting to move for a while now. It would be the perfect opportunity to make this idea that has been stuck in his mind for several months now come true, and find a house with a small garden that's a little closer to his work and Clarke's?

They could even move closer to their respective families, and to be honest, he's already looking forward to telling his sister and his mother the news. They will be so happy for them, that he's already smiling just thinking about it. He can imagine Abby and Marcus might be a little more reluctant, especially considering Clarke's young age, but Bellamy knows he'll prove himself worthy of the trust they've placed in him.

So, even though the circumstances of this news are a little unfortunate, he can only admit that this surprise makes him happy and fills him with hope for the future. And it's with this fresh and irrepressible enthusiasm that his eyes fall on the cutest outfit he's ever seen. It's a simple white unisex bodysuit with a plain black inscription that says:

_"My mom is the best mom in the world." _

Immediately, his heart fills with an unfamiliar emotion whose main component seems to be love. This unknown rush of affection spreads through him with warmth, making him a little dizzy. It's this feeling that leads him to unhook the piece of clothing from the rack and put it in his shopping basket before going home.

* * *

_Short update! thank you for your support, the next update will be longer, I promise!_

_Again, a lot of love for my beta Lili 3_

_Thank you for reading, comments and favorites always make my day!_

**Zouzou**


	8. If there's one thing I know (3)

Hey! How is everyone is doing today? Welcome in the Angst part of this fiction *insert evil laugh here*

Thank you Lili, you're like my own betâ-miracle, I can't believe I've found you and working with you is a privilege...

* * *

**Part 3**

Two knocks echo on their apartment door and Clarke frowns. She's sure neither she nor Bellamy were expecting someone tonight. She mutes the television and gets up from the couch to open the door, raises her eyebrows in disbelief when she discovers Bellamy on the other side of the door.

"Hey, why are you knocking? Have you lost your keys?"

Her voice seems to bring him back to reality and he stares at her with dark eyes before turning his gaze away, as if embarrassed.

"No," he replies, looking suddenly panicked. "Well yes, I mean no, it's just that I had my hands full," he justifies himself while lifting the bags he's carrying.

"Oh."

Clarke opens the door wider and steps forward to remove one of the bags from his hands to help him.

"No, let me do it!" he exclaims just before she grabs it.

It's weird, but not uncommon, that the young man stubbornly tries to protect her and do everything for her when she doesn't feel well. So she just nods and mutters an "ok" and closes the door behind them while Bellamy puts his bags on their kitchen counter.

When she comes to wrap her arms around his waist and lays her head over his shoulder blades, she feels him stiffen briefly before finally relaxing. He rests his hands on her forearms and squeezes briefly.

"Well, hello to you too," he says, a smile in his voice.

"I missed you," she replies in the crook of his neck.

He turns around in her embrace and wraps his arms around her as well, then puts a kiss on her forehead and answers:

"We saw each other this morning, though."

"I told you, I hate it when we start the day angry..."

"Well, I'm not angry now. Not anymore."

"Neither am I," she whispers, raising her pretty face to his and offering a shy smile before putting her lips to his.

He responds softly to her kiss, almost too softly for her taste, she lets out a sigh full of her desire to deepen it but he takes a step back. Unaware of her disappointment, he turns towards the table, leans over the shopping bags, and starts to empty their contents to stash them away. She steps up to help him, but he shakes his head...

"I'll do it, don't worry. Nyko's meals are right over there if you want to set the table..."

Once again taken aback by his behavior, she doesn't say anything, grabs the bag, and heads to the living room corner of their large main room, sets up the still-warm food containers, drinks and towels on their coffee table before sitting on their couch to wait for him.

"So, how was your day?" she asks, raising her voice a little to carry it to their kitchen, over the sound of unpacking.

"Fine."

The short, dry answer makes her frown.

"Did you solve any cases today?"

A silence, then, awkwardly:

"Yes, you could say that."

"That's good. And how are the others? Miller, Harper?"

"Um, I haven't seen them much today, mostly just did paperwork and hung around the lab."

"Ah, you must have seen Monty, then. How is he?"

A loud "BANG" echoes from their kitchen, followed by a scream, then a muffled insult. Clarke leaps to her feet.

"Bellamy? Is everything all right?"

The water running from their faucet and the flood of curses that follow is her only answer. Worried, she returns to their kitchen to find a bloodied-faced Bellamy leaning over the sink with a wet paper towel over his wound.

"Bellamy!" she exclaims as she rushes to his side. "What's happened?"

The young man seems more annoyed by his clumsiness than upset by his injury.

"It's nothing, I'm fine. I hit the closet door. I didn't realize it was still open."

"You're bleeding, let me see."

Reluctantly, he cuts off the water and removes the paper from his forehead. A nasty cut appears under Clarke's eyes and she inspects it for a few seconds before stating that he won't need stitches. She makes him sit on one of the stools surrounding their kitchen island and then quickly runs into the bathroom to get antiseptic and band-aids before proceeding to take care of her boyfriend.

While she cleans the wound, Bellamy remains strangely quiet. One of his hands is still on his thigh, but the other sits on Clarke's hip, drawing soft patterns with his fingertips. Once the bandage has been applied, she drops a kiss on his forehead, smiling, and then throws the papers in the trash can just behind her.

"Good as new," she says as she turns to the island.

There, on the table, a gift box catches her eye.

"What is this?"

Bellamy wiggles on his seat, tries to half protest and raises his arm, but is not fast enough to prevent her from picking up the bag.

"Is that for me?" she asks, smiling.

"Yes, but-"

She interrupts him with a big smile and a "thank you", already starts to open the bag and Bellamy suddenly finds herself unable to say anything. The sound of his heart beating wildly in his ears seems to make him deaf and dumb, and it's as if he's witnessing a sudden crash at a slow speed. No matter how much he would have wished to clear the way, apologize first, explain second, and then break the news... No matter what he had planned or hoped for, Clarke unwraps his present, pulls the immaculate outfit out of the package, unfolds it, and just stares at it.

Bellamy slowly watches her expression go from pleased, to surprised, to puzzled, to completely confused.

"Bellamy... What is this?" she finally asks, putting the garment on the table.

The black inscription on the white onesie seems to taunt him as he is searching for the right words.

"Is this some kind of joke? Is this-" Clarke stammers, frantically looking for the answers in his eyes, "Please, just talk to me..."

Bellamy can feel that Clarke is on the verge of some kind of panic attack.

In her big blue eyes that he loves so much, he can see the thoughts that run through her mind at breathtaking speed; he sees the moment she realizes that he's far from joking when she understands in his behavior what he's trying to tell her. He watches the spark in her bright eyes as she counts the days since her last period and puts the puzzle pieces back together. Slowly, she moves her left hand to her still-flat stomach and holds a short breath, as if running out of air, and there is no way Bellamy can stay still, no way he can leave her like that.

The urge to move forward and rest his own hand on hers is almost a survival instinct.

"Clarke, I- You-you're pregnant."

She releases the breath she was holding and her hand trembles a little beneath his, as does her voice when she asks:

"How?"

She still refuses to look into his eyes when he answers.

"Well, I'm not sure of the exact time, but it probably happened during our beach holiday in September..."

They spent so much time having sex, everywhere and all the time, that condom use soon became optional, leaving them relying solely on Clarke's pill.

"I'm not asking you how it's possible," Clarke clarifies. "I'm asking you how you can know..."

It's like a bucket of ice-cold water spills over their heads. Bellamy takes his hand away as Clarke slides hers from her belly to support herself on the counter behind her.

Embarrassed, the young man runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck.

"How, Bellamy?" now demands Clarke in front of his silence.

"I was worried," he finally says. "I love you, and seeing you like this, always so tired, barely eating... It made me so terrified for you and- You were just a shadow of your usual self, Clarke. And I couldn't leave you like that. I couldn't just do nothing."

"I told you I was gonna take care of it myself, Bellamy. Earlier and even yesterday, I promised you I'd be more careful, after I fell and cut myself, I-"

The words die in her throat and her eyes widen with understanding.

"Is this what you did? Bellamy, don't tell me you had my blood tested?! Please..."

Bellamy's heart beats so fast it feels like it's going to explode in his chest. He feels trapped by his own mistakes, unable to get out without shooting himself in the foot. Maybe that's why, instead of listening to his head, laying low, and opting for defense, his heart takes over his logic and forces him to attack.

"What else was I supposed to do, Clarke?" he bursts out.

Immediately, her blue eyes fill with tears that she refuses to let fall, and her voice shakes as she retorts, yelling too:

"You could have trusted me in the first place!"

In front of their surprising outbursts, each of them abruptly withdraws, and the calm returns in the kitchen. Silence hovers, heavy, unbearable, as a cold distance sets in between them.

"I'm not your mother, Bellamy. Not your sister... Not Gina," Clarke finally whispers, exhausted.

And that was the whole damn problem, wasn't it?

Bellamy had almost lost Aurora when she delayed consulting a doctor and her sickness and dizziness turned out to be breast cancer. He had almost lost Octavia when her craving for thrills and adrenaline caused her motorcycle accident. Eventually, he had driven Gina away, as his dark side and demons became too much for her to bear, pushing her away by trying to keep her close. It's almost like he could never find the right balance.

But Clarke was different. Clarke was the person who centered him, who kept him in balance, who had accepted him entirely, and who loved him for the best and the worst parts of him. He was so lucky to have her. And now Bellamy was afraid. Scared that once again, his fears and need to control everything were driving away one of the most important people in his life. Paralyzed with fear at the thought of losing not only the woman of his life but the family he has always wanted to build with her with this child growing within her.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," he says as genuine as he can. "The second I read the results, I regretted what I did. But, I can't go back, what's done is done... I can't describe how deeply sorry I am for crossing those lines..."

Finally, the ocean of Clarke's eyes overflows and drips salty tears down her cheeks. Once again, her hand comes unconsciously to rest on her belly. She takes a deep breath and asks, her voice broken:

"Do you? Regret it?"

Bellamy guesses the hidden question beneath the words in the same way that he has always been able to tell what she was thinking, in the same way Clarke has always been able to read through his heart and soul.

"I do regret the way I handled it, yes. But this baby-" He swallows painfully when the emotion becomes too overpowering. "I want your forgiveness first, Clarke. But when I think about it and consider it- what I am feeling first is just joy and- I love you so much."

It takes all the strength within him not to cross the short distance between the two of them to hold her in his arms and fulfill his need to touch and comfort her. But suddenly Clarke wipes away her tears and asks a question he couldn't have possibly fathomed.

"So I have no choice, is that it? You say you love me. You imply that you already love this baby, you drop this mind-blowing news on me, and I have no choice."

"What do you mean, Clarke?"

"What if I'm not ready? What if I don't want children?"

He holds up a trembling hand and can't help but respond:

"You've always told me that you wanted kids..."

"Yes, someday! Not now, not like this."

This time, panic overwhelms her and Bellamy wants to help her, but he's crushed by the weight of her words and doubts, and can only listen as she adds:

"I'm too young, I- what about my studies? I'm training to be a doctor, I can't- What about this apartment?"

"Clarke, slow down a minute. We can figure this out, _ together _, I'm sure we can make it work."

"There's no "together" anymore. Ever since you forced those tests on me, Bellamy, and dropped that news on me without giving me time to freak out and process it. There was no "together" when you went behind my back, why should there be a "together" now?"

Bellamy's heart shatters and he can see Clarke's heart cracking in her chest from the way she's holding herself. Her fists are clenched and her bottom lip trembles as she desperately tries to stop herself from crying.

"Clarke, please let me help you, I-"

She stops him with one hand, closes her eyes like she can't bear to see him in front of her anymore, but Bellamy can't stop herself from going on, can't let her believe that he would force her to do anything.

"Please, Clarke. I'm so sorry. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Please, believe me. Whatever you choose, you have to know I'll be there for you, to support you no matter what."

When Clarke opens her eyes, he doesn't recognize the glow in her eyes. And when she opens her mouth to speak, he also doesn't recognize the cold distance of her voice. Then, the words she utters destroy him.

"I'm not sure that's what I want, either."

Bellamy has no idea how he finds the will to keep himself up after that. If there's one thing he does know, it's that it's the only energy he has left. He finds he doesn't have enough strength to stop Clarke from getting out of the kitchen or to hold her back when she's packing a bag in a hurry, or when she puts on her coat and sets her hand on the doorknob of their apartment.

He uses his deepest buried resources to whisper one final word:

"Clarke-"

But the young woman doesn't turn back, doesn't look at him, and the last words he hears from her end up turning the last pieces of his broken heart into dust.

"Don't call me."

She doesn't storm out, she doesn't slam the door, she just gently closes it behind her and this somehow makes it all worse. The click of the lock startles him.

Bellamy finds himself alone in their apartment, in an oppressive silence. Alone in the living room with the cold meals that he and Clarke will never eat. Alone with, on their kitchen table, the proof that he has once again managed to ruin everything. Alone with only his eyes to cry.

* * *

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think about it so far!


	9. If there's one thing I know (4)

**Part 4**

In the three years of their relationship, including nearly two years of living together, never before had a fight taken Clarke and Bellamy apart for the night. Whatever the reason for their argument, they were both too stubborn to go to bed before it was settled once and for all.

Maybe that's why, once Clarke is (un)comfortably lying on Raven's couch, she can't seem to fall asleep.

She turns and turns, unable to switch her brain off. She keeps replaying their evening in her mind, every word they've exchanged, every expression Bellamy made, even if it breaks her heart over and over again. She tries to understand how she got here, how she missed the fact that she was pregnant, even as she is struggling to realize her new reality.

She delves into every memory she has, from the end of September and their ocean vacation to tonight. The endless exhaustion, the random sickness, the loss of appetite, the unrelenting dizziness, and the way her emotions seem to be all over the place lately... She wonders how she didn't notice it before. She's a doctor, for God's sake!

However, she was so caught up in her studies, her daily routine, her exams, and her internship at the hospital...She blamed the stress and the challenges of her job for all her symptoms, even ignoring the most obvious one, and forgetting that her period should have happened more than a month before...

For the umpteenth time, Clarke grabs her phone from the coffee table beside her and unlocks the screen. Right away, the messages exchanged with Bellamy appear on the screen. The last text he sent her glows on the screen. It's a simple "sorry", along with the picture of her test results but it still manages to break her heart again.

Clarke had only needed a glance at the picture to see that she was indeed pregnant (and also anemic, but that wasn't a surprise given her state of fatigue). That didn't stop her from reading the results over and over again.

Once again, tears rush to her eyes. She locks the phone and puts it back on the table before turning on her back and tries to breathe calmly through her nose. She forbids panic from overwhelming her, guilt from getting the better of her, and feelings from clouding her judgment.

Despite her best efforts, her hands land on her flat stomach. She finds it hard to imagine that in a few months it will be prominent. But a baby is growing and developing inside of her, already sharing with her all sorts of things: oxygen, nutrients, blood... At the moment, it is about the size of a blueberry and is already producing some of its vital organs.

Clarke clamps her palms over her eyes and grunts in frustration. Damn these medical lectures and her recent internship in obstetrics! The young woman certainly didn't need all that extra knowledge to keep her awake.

Unfortunately, when she tries not to think about the possible future of this baby, her thoughts bring her back to Bellamy, which does nothing to help her mind calm down.

The different expressions on his face are haunting her, and she relives the guilt, joy, and despair he displayed during their conversation. Doubt and sadness also help keep her memories alive, and Clarke is _thrilled_ with the show her brain is giving her. All she is asking for is a little break. After all, she too has to deal with her guilt, despair, doubts, and sadness. And she also has to try to understand the emotion that is bubbling up beneath the surface of the rest of her feelings and that she cannot yet grasp.

When the sun begins to shine through the blinds of Raven's living room, she finally gives up any hope of rest. Clarke gets up, folds the blanket her friend gave her, and piles the stuff on one corner of the couch. Her best friend, always up early in the morning, appears in the kitchen at the same time as Clarke starts looking in the cupboard for breakfast.

She has no appetite, but still has to try to eat something, if not for herself, then at least for the baby-

It's at that moment, that exact moment when Clarke puts her needs and desires after those of the life growing inside her that she understands. She has no intention of not keeping this child. The sudden realization freezes her on the spot and leaves her empty of any other thoughts and emotions. Her legs begin to falter, causing her to suddenly have to sit on one of the chairs surrounding Raven's kitchen table.

The brunette, too busy taking out mugs and plates, doesn't notice Clarke's demeanor and asks:

"Coffee?"

"No, thank you," replies Clarke, still helplessly unable to regain her grip on reality.

Surprised, Raven snorts loudly and turns to the blonde with an inquisitive and curious look. Clarke is pretty much known for her coffee addiction, and Raven is known for making the best cup of coffee the blonde's ever had. The two young women often joke that this is the whole reason for their friendship in the first place.

"Why, are you pregnant or something?" Raven jokingly asks.

It's Clarke's turn to snort. Without thinking she answers:

"Yeah, but that's not the point. The fact that pregnant women aren't allowed to drink coffee while they're pregnant is a myth. As long as I don't inject it into myself through an IV, it's safe for the fetus, so I could say yes to one or two cups a day with no problem if I had managed to sleep last night and wasn't afraid that the caffeine would make me even crazier than I already am."

"Oh, my God, what?"

Raven's exclamation at her rant brings Clarke back down to earth. When her blue eyes finally meet her friend's mocha, she realizes what she just confessed.

"You're pregnant?" Raven asks.

Clarke's heart pounds in her chest.

" Yes?"

"Oh, my God!" Raven repeats, tumbling into the chair next to Clarke, looking shocked.

"Yes."

"Is that why you came over here last night? What about Bellamy? What happened?"

At the name of the man she loves more than anything, tears fill Clarke's eyes and she doesn't want to blame the hormones and give in to the cliché of the hyper-emotional pregnant woman, but it doesn't help, okay? The fact that she hasn't slept for over twenty-four hours doesn't help either. And the concern, care, and love in Raven's eyes do nothing to make things better. So, yes, Clarke starts crying, and since it's not really in her nature, Raven doesn't know exactly how to react. She takes her in her arms awkwardly, whispering reassuring words that Clarke can barely hear through her sobs, but her soothing tone slowly makes its effect.

After a few minutes, Raven loosens her embrace from Clarke's shoulders and hands her a tissue with which the blonde wipes her tears.

"I'm screwed, Raven," she stutters as soon as she can talk properly.

"No, Clarke, don't say that..."

"I am so screwed, Raven. I just realized I wanted to keep this baby and yet I managed to push away the very person who wants to keep both of us."

When the tears start coming back, Raven jumps in:

"Okay, first of all, there's no way you could've pushed Bellamy away enough to lose him. I mean, that man would probably want you even if that baby was someone else's..."

"Raven!"

"It's the truth, Clarke! Bellamy is crazy about you. He would never let you go, especially now that you're carrying his child."

When Clarke's tears redoubled at the sheer truth, Raven sighs, already frustrated by this display of emotion.

"I'm thrilled you're expecting, Clarke. And I call dibs on Godmother, but I'm not sure I'm the right person to deal with your pregnancy hormones."

At those words, Clarke lets out a nervous chuckle. She dries her tears one last time, and can't help but notice that underneath her sarcasm, Raven seems moved as well.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"You are forgiven. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you all the questions I refrained from asking you yesterday when you showed up at my door in tears and forbade me from asking you anything.

Once again, Clarke lets out a chuckle and nods at her friend's request.

"Okay, so how about you start explaining to me why you're here instead of your apartment? Who's gonna stop Bellamy from starting to paint your bedroom walls unisex yellow? I bet he's already bought all the newborn stuff online by now!"

Clarke takes a deep breath and gathers all her strength before going into the story of everything that happened the day before. What she thought would be a long and tedious story to tell finally turns out to be quite simple to explain to her best friend, who doesn't seem surprised by the situation. After all, Raven has known Clarke for several years and Bellamy for even longer.

"If I understand correctly, you have once again been reckless with your health; Bellamy has once again been overprotective with the person he loves; you wanted, unsurprisingly, to be independent to control things and he needed, unsurprisingly, to control things to stay in control of his life. And that's what it all came down to," she concludes, pointing at Clarke vaguely.

"Exactly," replies the young woman in a small voice, stunned by the way Raven identified their entire problem in just a few minutes.

Clarke knows she should stop underestimating her best friend. She's an astronaut for God's sake! If there's one person who doesn't have to prove to the world that she's smart, it's Raven.

"And you're going to tell me you're surprised?" she asks.

This time, Clarke doesn't know what to say.

"Come on, Clarke. It's so like you guys that it's hardly the most surprising thing that's happened since you've been together, honestly. Remember when we all thought Bellamy and Octavia would never speak to each other again because she wouldn't let him date you? That was surprising!"

At the painful memory, Clarke winces. At the time, she didn't understand the hatred her boyfriend's sister had for her. She had had to learn how they had grown up and all the hardships they had gone through for her to forgive the young woman, and it had taken Octavia even longer to accept Clarke into her brother's life. Clarke had thought that Bellamy was never going to speak to her sister again when she had once asked him to choose between her and Clarke, and Bellamy had shocked both girls by choosing Clarke.

"You're right."

"Of course I'm right, I'm awesome," Raven laughs before going on. "Bellamy couldn't have reacted any differently. Just like you can't seem to take care of yourself first and other people second."

However, even if Raven is indeed telling the truth, it doesn't change the frustration Clarke has been feeling since Bellamy admitted that he ran a blood test without her consent.

"The fact that this is part of his personality doesn't make what he did behind my back okay, Raven-"

"Let me finish, Clarke, please," Raven cuts her off right away. "What I was going to say is that you are Bellamy and Clarke. You love each other unconditionally. You've basically reinvented the concept of forgiveness. Forgiving each other is part of who you are together. So, everything's going to be okay, Clarke. Even if you're angry, which I understand. Even if Bellamy's probably going out of his mind by now, I know you'll find the strength to move on, to make decisions together, and to forgive each other. You'll grow from this hardship, no matter the outcome, and I'll-"

Clarke wraps both of her arms around Raven's neck and hugs her tightly.

"Thank you, Raven," she whispers.

"You're not going to cry over me again, are you?" the young woman asks. "I haven't even had my coffee yet, it's too early for that."

Clarke detects the smile in her voice, but also the raw emotion in the way her tone sounds closed-up.

"I agree. It's definitely too early for that," Clarke says as they release each other, without crying this time.

Clarke watches her best friend get up and turn to her kitchen cupboards and can almost swear that Raven wipes the corner of her eye before asking in a slightly too cheerful voice if she'll survive the smell of early morning eggs in case she makes a tomato omelet, despite her pregnancy. Clarke laughs and assures her that she will, even though she finds out a few minutes later that the smell of early morning eggs is in fact quite unbearable.

Once her breakfast has been eaten and her emotions settled, the young woman gathers her things, puts on her coat and pockets her phone.

"What are you going to do?" asks Raven after hugging her best friend.

"Forgive him, of course."

"You're going home, then?"

The blonde smiles.

"Yeah, but I have to make a stop at the store first."

Clarke now knows what she has to do.

* * *

I got myself a little carried away and here I am with 5 chapters instead of the original 4 haha. I hope you enjoyed this one! Thank you for reading!


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